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Laws of Correct Living, 







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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


Stercot]rP«d by John C. Regan &Co., 65 Congress Street, Boston« • 

"■ '■.. "^.y 'K^-n^jL- ^ f.jr B -™. 




A Barber's Razor 541 

Acid, What becomes of Carbonic 573 

Adulteration of Food . • • . 567 

Adulterations 100 

Air 6 

" Bad effects of Impure . . 166 

" How kept Pure .... 165 

" Vitiated by Exhalations . . 98 

Alchemists, The 473 

Alcohol 547 

Anatomj and Physiology of the 

Lungs 412 

Ancient Signals and Expresses . 570 

Anecdotes of Chemists . . . 431 

Animals as Fellow-boarders . . 375 

Antidotes, Snake-bites ... 82 

Arterial and Venous Circulation 121 

Artificial Eyes 297 

" PupU ....*.. 396 

" Teeth 409 

Aasimilation, Is Mineral Matter 

capable of 10 

ABsimilation, A Beply to Prof. 

Horsford on 72 

Baliies, How to bring up . . 

179, 220, 265 

Balloons and Ballooning . . . 136 

Barometer, TUe 326 

Behavior of Medical Students . 420 

Benefits of Laughter .... 395 

Beverag*^3 549 

Blood, The Circulation of . . 

" Coughing and raising of . 559 
Brain, The Development of • 24 
" The Effect of the Secre- 
tion of Tears on . . • . 320 
Bread ........ 546 

" Made from whole Wheat . 305 

" New 128 

Bronchi, Disorders of . . , . 556 

Brown-Sequard in Boston . . 471 

Capillaries, The 118 

Cataract *. . 258 

'* Catching Cold," or " Catching 

Heat?" 3(n 

Causes of Insanity 481 

Charles Dickens 190 









Chemical Transformations . . 
Chilblains and Chapped Hands . 
Children, Powers of Develop- 
ment of 

Children, Treatment of, in 

Thought Culture 
Children's Parties . 
China Dishes . . 
*' Lessons from 
Chinese Fish . . 
Chloral, Hydrate of 
Chloroform, Sir J. Y 


Circulation f Arterial and Venous 

" of the Blood, 15, 54, 117 

Cities .231 

Climate 5 

" of Algeria 408 

Cocoa 124 

Coffee and Tea 12 

Color-blindness » 287 

Condiments 457, 484 

Confectionery . . . . 198, 551 


312, 364, 412, 460, 502, 556 
Contractions of the Heart . . 18 

Corsets 1, 268 

Cough ....;. 355,389 

" On Whooping .... 557 

Coughing and Raising of Blood . 559 

(glourier Pigeons 478 

Cyanosis (Blue Baby) . . . 556 


Damp Houses 343 

Defective Chimneys . . . . 497 

Diet of the Ancients .... 430 

" Parisian, during the Siege . 479 

Digestion 241 

Dining with a Mandarin . . . 285 

Disadvantage of a Potato Diet . 346 

Disease ^8 

^^ will it terminate in Health 

without the use of Medicine . 14 

Diseases of Infants . . 222, 265 

" Preventable . . • . 145 

Do you wear Glasses ? . . . 46 

Drainage 7 

Dreams 225 

^^ and their Causes . . . 253 
Dress, Women's . . . 212, 268 







Drowned, Treatment of . . • 90 

Dyeing 380 

Dynamite 325 

Early History of Surgeons . • 410 

Earth Closets ..... 99, 144 

Earthquakes in New England . 526 

Educated Women in the Nursery 272 

Education and Insanity . . . 257 

" National .... 280 

" Technical . . 151,431 

" of Women in India . 543 

Educational Principles . . . 832 

Eggs, The Preservation of . . 347 

Electricity 143 

Exercise, Various Kinds of, 1, 3, 513 
Eye, The, in Health and Disease, 

258, 297, 348, 396, 445, 492, 535 
Abrasion of the Cornea . 494 

Amaurosis 539 

Artificial 297 

" Pupil .... 396 
Bums, etc., of ... . 535 

Cataract in 258 

Conjunctivitis (Cold in the 

Eye) • ... 536 

Eye, Disease of the Membrane 

within the Globe .... 538 
Eye, Enucleation of ... . 300 
" Foreign Bodies within the 

EyebaU 495 

Eye, Foreign bodies within the 

Orbit 535 

Eye, Glaucoma 400 

Granulated Lids . . . 537 
Gunpowder Injuries to • 49ff 
Ingrowing Eyelashes . . 540 
Injuries of the Eyeball • 493 
" " Lids . . 492 
Iridectomy ..... 398 

Iritis 537 

Ophthalmoscope, Its Use, 

etc 445 

Eye, Penetrating Wounds and 

JElupture of EyebaU 1 . . . • 494 
Eye, Pterygerium . . . . . . 538 

Purulent Ophthalmia . . 537 

Squinting 348 

Sore, Of new-born Infants 536 
Styes on the Lids of . . 540 
Sympathetic Inflammation of *399 
Tumors of the Lids . . 540 
Use of the Eyes, etc. . . ,540 

Watery .539 

Eyesight and the Microscope, 122, 289 




Fasting, and Fasting People • 38 

Fat People, Notes for ... . 40 

Fires 573 

Fish, Chinese 53 

Food 7 

• " Adulteration of ... . 567 

« Demand for 293 

'^ Improper, as a Cause of 

Death in Infancy . . . . 561 

Food, Uncommon 521 

" Value of Gelatin afl . . 245 

" Items, Late Paris . . . 501 

Foods 385 

'^ Albuminous 545 

" Classes of ..... 295 

'^ Starchy and Oleaginous . 544 

Frog, The Edible 542 

Furs . . . . 426 

Gastric Juice • 294 

Gelatin, Value of, as Food . . . 245 

General Pathology of the Lungs 460 

Getting Cured 108 

Gymnastics, etc. . . 4, 193, 250 




Health and Occupation ... 49 
Lord Stanley on . . • 419 
Means of Preserving 

1, 97, 241, 292, 885, 544 

Public 5 

Heart, The . 15 

Contractions of . . 18, 56 
Effects of Mental Emotion, 
etc., on ........ 67 

Heart, Sounds of 54 

Hiccough . 808 

Honey Trade of the U. S. . . 510 
Horse-flesh as Food . . • 58, 550 
Household Education for Women 150 
How to bring up Babies, 179, 220, 266 
How to Cheat the Doctor . . 648 
How to Eat . 162 

How to Rest the Mind . . 
How to Ventilate a Sick-room 
, Human Hair, Real and False 
Hunger and Thirst . . . 
Hydrate of Chloral . . . 




Illumination of tlie Body . . . 
Improper Treatment of Children 

in Thought Culture .... 26 
Iqfant Mortality in France . . 159 
Infants, Diseases of . . 222, 265 
" Improper Food as a 

Cause of Disease and Death of 561 



Insanity, Causes of .... 481 

" Education and . . . 257 

Instinct and Reason . 94, 140, 187 

• Jenner, Edward, M. D. . . . 565 

Kitchen Range 217 

Leaf, The FaU of 303 

Leeches, A Legion of ... . 3B3 

Leprosy 309, 359 

" of the Bible, etc., 205, 246 

Lessons from China .... 329 

Life 44 

*' Insurance 142 

" Statistics of 173 

" The Origin of 271 

Lime Juice 551 

Liver, The 294 

JLocality of the Sense of Taste . 347 
Langs, Anatomy and Physiology 

of 412 

Lungs, General Pathology of . 460 

Methods of Examining . 502 


Mastication 241 

Means of Preserving Health 

1, 97, 241, 292, 385, 544 

Mechanical Respiration . . . 415 

, Medicine in China 491 

" " the Dark Ages . . 306 

Microscope, The Eyesight and . 

122, 289 

Mineral Constituents of Vege- 
tables 105 

Mineral Matter, Is it capable of 

Assimilation 10 

More about Tea . ... . . 209 

" " Tobacco .... 29 

Muscular Motion . . . 101, 170 

National Education .... 280 

Nature 287 

Nature's Economy 575 

Near-sightedness 64 

Neglected Cellars 99 

Nervous System and Vision . . 202 

New Bread 128 

Notes for Fat People '. . . . 40 

" Nothing New under the Sun " 574 

Nu^itiou, How carried on . . 121 



and Health ... 49 
Open Doors 511 


Ophthalmoscope, The, etc. . . 445 
Orange Peel, The Poisonous Ef- 
fects of 257 

Our Last Journey 323 

Ozone 229, 296, 515 

Pathology, General, of the Lungs 460 
Poetry, 48, 96, 192, 240, 288, 336, 384, 

Poisons ........ 

20, 59, 160, 337, 440, 487, 552 

Poisons, Ammonia 489 











Arsenic . . 

Calomel . . 

Copper, Salts of, etc., 62, 160 

Corrosive Sublimate, 21, 59 

Cyanide of Potassium . 553 

Lead 337 

Mercurial Salts, etc. 21, 59 
Mercuric Oxide and 

Sulphide 61 

Poisons, Muriatic Acid . . . 488 

" Oil of Vitriol ... 488 

" Opium 555 

Oxalic Acid .... 489 

Prussic Acid . . . 552 

Poisonous Effects of Orange Peel 257 

Politeness 575 

Potato Diet, Disadvantages of . 346 

Potatoes, Preparation of. . . . 58 

Poultry, How to Cook ... 63 

Presence of Mind 67 

Preservation of Eggs .... 347 

Preventable Diseases .... 145 

Prussian Ambulance Corps, etc. 408 

Public Health 5 

PublioMurder and Suicide . . 444 

Pulse, General Indications of . 57 

Pure Water ....... 304 

Range, The Kitchen . . . . 217 

Raven, The 279 

Razor, A Barber's 541 

Respiration, Mechanism of . . 41^5 

Resuscitation, Singular Case of ^ 395 

Rice 405,533 

ftoses 238 

Sagacity of the Dog . 

Sale of Unsound Meat 

cient Times . . . 

Sanitary Law . . . 

Sense . . . 











School, The 27 

Science in Warfare . . • . 569 
Scientific American versus Carl 

Both 176 

Sewage, etc 6 

Shipwrecks 572 

Short Pieces on various subjects, 9, 28 
35, 37, 43, 47-48, 53, 63, 71, 89 
96, 107, 116, 123, 130, 143-4, l5l 
183, 201, 208, 216, 224, 228, 287 
240, 249, 257, 264, 272, 280, 288 
296, 308, 319-20, 330-1, 336, 374 
383-4, '391, 394, 403, 420, 431-2 
476-7,480, 501, 505, 509, 514, 516 
Sick-room, How to Ventilate . 165 

Sick-rooms 514 

Simpson, Sir J. T 42 

" " " and Chloro- 

form 155 

Skates, Skating, and Skaters . 421 
Sleep, State of Mind during . 506 
" The Science of . ... 404 
" Walking, Cure for . . 515 
Sleeping Apartments .... 97 
Snake-bites and their Antidotes . 

82, 113 

Soil and Disease 374 

Soils, The Origin of .... 429 
Spectroscope, The . . . 235, 281 
Squinting Eyes, etc. .... 348 

Statistics of Life 173 

Stimulants ..... 104, 529 

Stomach, The 243 

Sugar 174 

Summer Complaints . . . . 131 

Sunshine 99 

Surgery, War 437 

Surgeons, Early History of . • 410 

Swimming 85 


Taste, Locality of the Sense of . 347 

Tea and Coffee 12, 75 

" More about 209 

Tears, The Effects, etc. . . . 320 
Technical Education . . 151, 431 


Teeth, Artiilcial 409 

Teething 220 

The Doctor 374 

The Pot on the Fire .... 505 

The Raven 279 

The School 27 

Theory of a Glacial Epoch at 

the Equator 430 

Thought Chains 24 

Tobacco for the Wounded . . 320 

* " More about .... 29 

Toys, The Rationale of ... 296 
Treatment of the apparently 

Drowned 90 

Trichinatous Pork 499 

Uncommon Food 521 

Vegetables Better than Nothing 80 

" How to Cook ... 63 
'^ Mineral Constituents 

of 105 

Veins, The Valves of, etc. . 118-19 

Ventilation 97 

" Special Modes of . 167 

Vinegar 276 

Vision, The Nervous System and 202 

Volcanoes 333 

VoxPopuli 321 

War Surgery 437* 

Water 6, 184 

" Pure 304 

" (The) we Drink ... 433 

Water-tanks and Cisterns . . 303 

Wesley as a Doctor .... 383 

What becomes of Carbonic Acid 573 

What to Eat ^ 454 

Whooping Cough 557 

Woollens and Worsteds . . . 110 
Women's Dress ... 212, 268 
Women, Household Education 

for 150 

Women, The Medical Education 

of, in India 543 

Good Health. 


On the Laws of Correct Living. 


nr raOF. tAMOBL KHBSLAIID, A.M., lf.D. 

8«cond Pttper. 


ONE great distingaiBhing mark be- 
tween animals and plants is vol- 
untary motion: all animal organisms 
are created for motion ; not necessarily 
locomotion, but motion of sdme kind. 
All yoang animals are filled with an 
instinctive love of motion, by which 
their fluids are actively circulated, and 
their growing bodies fully developed; 
the young human being is the only ani- 
mal organism in which this natural 
tfodency is repressed. The effects of 
muscular action are seen in the develop- 
ment of various parts of the body : the 
arm of the blacksmith, the legs of the 
dancer, the neck of the porter, are 
frmiliAr exan^les of growth of partic- 
ular regions of the body by exercise. 
The muscles not only move the limbs, 
but they keep the body upright, balanc- 
ing it evenly on the extremities ; hence 
we may understand how unnatural 
positions, — as standing on one leg, sit- 
ting upon one foot, leaning upon one 
arm, bending the chest forward or 
sideways, — ^may cause deformity about 
the hips, shoulders, spine, and limbs, 
especially if practised during youth, 
when the bones and ligaments are yield- 
ing. Many such deformities, lasting 
for life, owe their origin to the school- 

The late Dr. John C. Warren writes : 
^* Of the well-educated females within 
my sphere of experience, at least one- 
half are affected with some degree of 
distortion of the spine." An eminent 

French writer says : ** It is so common 
that, out of twenty young girls who 
have attained the age of 15 years, there 
are not two who do not present very 
manifest traces of it." Any one who 
will walk along Beacon Street, or other 
places where young ladies congregate, 
will soon be convinced of the truUi of 
the above statements, by simply trying 
to find one of the fair pedestrians who 
has not one shoulder higher than the 
other. The remedy lies in impressing 
teachers, and especially mothers, with 
the importance of the rudiments of phys* 
iology and hygiene ; the teaching and 
the practice belong essentially to the 
economy of the household, not of the 

The spine is not a mere contrivance 
to keep the body erect, like a kind of 
internal walking-stick, which will an- 
swer the purpose just as well if it be a 
little crooked; the spine encloses the 
central spinal marrow, from which 
come off most of the nerves of senpa- 
tion and motion, and of those essential 
to the performance of respiration, circu- 
lation, and digestion ; all these functions 
will be disturbed in proportion to the 
degree of pressure arising from its cur- 
vature ; the lungs and heart are to the 
same extent displaced, constituting ad- 
ditional sources of disease. 


Among the causes which prevent 
muscular exercise, the compression of 
the chest by corsets is one of the mos^ 

Koteicd acconling to Act of Congrest, io the year 187O1 by Albxandbr Moorx, in the Clerk't Offict 

of the District Coort of the District of Massachusetts. 


remarkable. Wbere on the earth, or 
under the earth, or in the waters, or in 
the air, in things animate or inaminate, 
this fashion found its original model, 
unless it be in the venomous wasp, it 
would bo hard to discover. Tradition 
insists that corsets were invented by a 
butcher of the 13lh century, as a pun- 
ishment for his wife. Finding nothing 
to stop her loquacity, he put a pair of 
stays on her to take away her breath, 
and so prevent her from going about 
and talking. This effectual punishment 
was inflicted by other cruel husbands, 
till at last there was scarcely a wife in 
all London who was not tied up in this 
manner. The punishment became so 
universal at last, that the ladies, in their 
defence, made a fashion of it, and so it 
has continued to the present time. The 
form given by corsets to the female 
chest is directly opposed to Grecian 
and Roman models of beauty ; no rep- 
resentiUions of the ancient goddesses, 
of the Muses, of the Graces, of the 
Nymphs, unless it be the mail-clad 
Minerva, would give the least idea that 
they wore corsets. Bonnets change in 
their size and shape from a coal-scuttle . 
to a lamp-mat, and in position from the 
back of the head to the forehead; 
sleeves oscillate between the leg-of-mut- 
ton and the broomstick form ; skirts 
vary from the flowing folds of the Roman 
matron to the hogshead size and steel 
stiffness of the last year ; but the corset 
remains firm and unchangeable, except 
in material, through all the other ca- 
prices of fashion, — so universally worn 
that a lady scarcely considers herself 
well dressed without it; and so desi- 
rable, that its first apply^ation is an 
epoch in the life of a miss, looked for- 
ward to with the same longing expecta- 
tion as is the first pair of pantaloons by 
her younger brother. Its use must bo 
classed with those other caprices of 
fashion, which make obesity a charm 
to the Eastern nations, a flattened fore- 
head beautiful in the eyes of a North- 
west Indian, a stick through the nose 
ornamental to the Australian, or useless 
and small feet desirable to the women 
of China. They are all strange and 
inexplicable examples of the hiunan 
imagination ; but as the flattened fore- 

head may make a fool, as the perforated 
nose or lip obstructs articulation, and 
as the small feet hinder walking, so the 
compressed chest impedes free respirar 
tion, renders difficult the heart's action, 
and thus prevents the natural exercise 
necessary for the proper elaboration, 
circulation, and aeration of the blood. 

What else could be expected from a 
compression tighter than the surgeon 
would dare to employ to keep the chest 
motionless in the case of- a fractured 

It is not denied that corsets may, in 
some cases of weakness and distortion, 
furnish a valuable, perhaps necessary, 
support to the chest ; they are alluded 
to here as a piece of fashionable dress, 
and as such pronounced a most absurd, 
injurious, and death-hastening contrir 
vance,— in the sense in which the acv 
cumulated horrors of female fashions 
are graphically described in the follow- 
ing extracts from a well-known poem 
of Dr. O. W. Hohnes : 

"Hy aunt I my dear nninarried Anntl 
J^ng years have o'er faor flown ; 
Tel still the atrains the achitig clasp 

That bluds her virgin zone; 
I know It hurU her,— though she looks 

As cheerful as ehe can ; 
Her waist is ampler than her life, 
For life is but a span.'' 
♦ • ♦ 

" They braced ray nwnt agaln«t a board, 

To make her straight and tall ; 
They laced her up, they starved her down. 

To make her light and small ; 
They pinched her feet, thry singed her hair, 

Tney screwed it up wllli pins;— 
O, never mortal suffered more 

Id penaDoe for her sins.'' 

The hoops which hare recently b^ 
come so important an article of dress, 
can hardly be considered as health-de^ 
troying articles, unless in very cold and 
windy weather ; and when not of extr^ 
ordinary size and weight, tend rather 
to favor than to obstruct the free motion 
of the limbs, which it -is the aim of 
healthful exercise to ' secure. They 
surely are a great improvement over 
the custom that preceded them : viz^ 
of wearing 10 to 151bs. of skirts sus- 
pended from the hips. The continual , 
dragging and pressing of such a weight 
upon the soft and yielding organs of the 
abdomen, caused numerous infirmities 
and displacements unknown in young 


people in old times, wlien these articles 
oi female apparel were attached to 
waists, and directly or indirectly sus- 
pended from the shoulders. The sus- 
pension of such weights from the 
hips is even more injurious than the use 
of corsets. The proper dress for the 
female is a thing yet to be discovered, 
— one that shall allow the free use of 
^every limb, impeding the natural growth 
of no organ, disturbing no vital func- 
tion ; atthe-9ame time graceful, and ac- 
o^itable to maiden modesty, matronly 
dignity, and the quiet repose of age 
and infirmity. 

Variotis Kinds of Exercise. 

Remove, then, all unnatural restraint, 
and allow the limbs free scope for active 
exercise, which is so important that it 
has come to be regarded as synonymous 
with physical education, though it is 
really but a part of it. Nature, if un« 
trammelled, is sufficient for the physical 
development of the body ; it is our arti- 
ficial and luxurious state of civilization 
that opposes the natural tendency to 
active exercise ; and in order to regain 
the lost advantages, we must return to 
first principles. Habits of bodily exer- 
dae should begin very early in life; 
fresh air, every day and at all seasons, 
is less dangerous to the healthy infant 
than are accidental and occasional ex- 
posures to delicate children. As regards 
the spoils of children, there is much 
truth in the following extract from an 
old paper : " We like mischievous chil- 
dren, and for this reason : they are apt 
to make old men. Good boys generally 
die in their fifth year; not because 
they are good^ but their quiet habits 
make them strangers to mud-puddles, 
oxygen, dirt^pies, and outdoor exer- 
cise.'' While playing out of doors, the 
diild should bo properly and warmly 
dothed, to insure and keep up health ; 
no bare legs, and arms, and chest, in 
winter and spring, under the absurd 
pretence of hardening the child, should 
be permitted ; and flannel should be 
worn next the skin in our cold and 
diangeable climate, for at least half of 
the year. If proper food, as the cap- 
acity of the stomach for the digestion 

of more and more solid substances in- 
creases, be added to the warm clothing, 
fresh air, and exercise, the doctors' bills 
would be very much lessened, and a 
large number of voters added annually 
to the country. 

Leaving, then, out of the question 
the preventives of deformity in children, 
let us consider exercise in its relations 
to the adult man and woman. 

Walking is, beyond dispute, the best 
possible exercise, as it brings into play, 
in rapid succession, all the sets of mus- 
cles of the trunk and limbs. Says Jef- 
ferson : " The Europeans value them- 
selves on having subdued the horse to 
the use of man ; but I doubt whether 
we have not lost more than wo have 
gained by the use of this animal. No 
one thing has occasioned so much de- 
generacy of the human body. An In- 
dian goes on foot nearly as far in a day, 
for a long journey, as an enfeebled 
white does on his horse, and he will 
tire the best horses." 

The next best exercise for the female 
is dancing; thb brings into action a 
great part of the muscles, — indeed all 
except those of the arms. The benefit 
of dancing is counteracted in balls and 
crowded assemblies by the impure air, 
mental excitement, eating and drink- 
ing, and unavoidable exposures ; but at 
home there is no pastime more becom- 
ing the domestic circle, more beneficial, 
or more innocent. 

A lady once consulted the eccentric 
John Abemethy respecting a nervous 
disorder, the particulars of which ap- 
peared to him so whimsical, that he in- 
terrupted the tedious details by holding 
out his hand for the fee. A one-pound 
note and a shilling were placed in it ; 
he returned the shilling to the lady, 
with the exclamation, " There, ma'am ! 
go and buy a skipping-rope — that is 
all you want." And many a young 
woman in America may profit by his 

Sydenham, an English physician, 
had such confidence in exercise on 
horseback, that, in one of his medical 
works, he says, " If any man was pos- 
sessed of a remedy that would do equal 
service to the human constitution with 
riding gentiy on horseback, twice a day, 


he would be in poflseasion of the phil- 
osopher's stone." 

There can be no doubt that many 
cases of obscure nervous diseases, dys- 
pepsias, gout, and neuralgia, require 
for their relief nothing more than a 
regulated diet and active exercise ; and 
that the reply of Mr. Abemethy to an 
indolent and luxurious citizen, who 
asked what was the cure for gout, con- 
tains the simple and whole truth for the 
cure of the diseases of indulgence and 
laziness : viz, ^^ Live on sixpence a day, 
sir, and earn it." 

The Cfymncuium. 

In imitation of ancient and modem 
Europe, attempts were long ago made 
in this country to form a gymnasium on 
a large scale ; through the exertion of 
Dr. J. C. Warren and others. Dr. 
Lieber, of Grermany, opened a very sue- 
eessful one in Boston about fifty years 
ago ; since then they have been opened 
in all the large cities of the country, 
and colleges and academies now regard 
them as a necessary portion of the 
educational apparatus for both sexes. 
Invaluable as they are to persons of 
sedentary habits, who have neither the 
time nor inclination to walk two or 
three hours daily simply for exercise, 
they are not even now properly appre- 
ciated by our men of business and let> 
ters, and especially by those who man- 
age our educational faciUties. 

The late Daniel Webster, whose pas- 
sion for manly and out-door sports is 
well known, many years ago wrote a 
letter on this subject, firom which the 
following are extracts : ^^ I am highly 
pleased with the idea of a gymnasium. 
Those who have the diarge of educa- 
tion seem sometimes to forget the body 
is a part of a man. The number of 
young men who leave our colleges, 
emulous indeed, and learned, but with 
pale faces and narrow chests, is truly 
alarming. If it be desirable that there 
should be cultivated intellect, it is 
equally so, as far as this world is con- 
cerned, that there should be also a 
sound body to hold it in." In a speech 
made by Edward Everett, at a festival 
in commemoration of the birthday of 

Webster, the following true remarks 
occur: ^^From morning to night— 
from January to December— brain 
and hands, eyes and fingers, the powers 
of the body, and the powers of the 
mind, are in spasmodic, merciless ao> 
tivity. There is no lack of a few 
tasteless and soulless dissipations which 
are called amusements, but noble ath- 
letic sports, manly out-door exercises, 
are too littXs cultivated in town or 

The gymnasium ought to form a 
part of every coUege and institution of 
learning, and its exercises should con- 
stitute a regular portion of the course 
of instruction. It would be well if the 
most adive member of a class had his 
college honors as well as the first 
scholar ; the former would be likely to 
make a vigorous and useful member of 
society ; the latter is apt to degenerate 
into a second-rate man or a useless in- 
valid. Follow the careers of most of 
the first scholars of our colleges, and 
see how few maintain, in after life, the 
supremacy they gained as students ; in 
the struggle for life the strong arm is 
as necessary as the active brain. What 
Cicero and Cffisar, according to Plu- 
tarch, found time to do in the midst of 
the stirring events of ancient Rome, 
surely young students and merchants 
can find time to do at the present day. 

As gymnastic exercises are so power- 
ful for good when properly directed, 
they are as powerful for evil if injudi* 
ciously performed. Physical education, 
like the practice of medicine, should 
not be in the hands of empirics, igno* 
rant of the structure, and functions, 
and capabilities of the human body in 
its various constitutions ; but it should 
have its learned professors, anatomists, 
and physiologists, and physicians, and 
be elevated to the rank of intellectual 
and moral discipline. 

Exercise, then, by increasing musca- 
lar action, quickens the circulation of 
the blood, introduces more air into the 
lungs for its purification, facilitates all 
the processes of nutrition and secretion, 
creates a demand for food to supply the 
waste of tissue, and provides for the 
healthy performance of every animal 
and organic function. 



MAN'S health, as an individual, has 
been well defined as " the greatest 
energy of each part compatible with the 
enaergy of the whole," and this state is 
G<mtinued only by obedience to certain 
conditions. The relations of the hu- 
man body to the air which surrounds it, 
to heat and cold, to the food it absorbs, 
to the poisons in or around it, must be 
observed, or ill-health is the result. 
Instinct and experience have done much 
towards framing a code of personal hy- 
giene : they have taught the savage to 
protect hiinself from cold, to select the 
nutritious from the poisonous fruit ; but 
as social life becomes devel(q>ed, in- 
stinct and experience prove all but 
powerless in the absence of a further 
knowledge of nature's laws. If a man 
builds a house, he is at once involved 
in the difficult problems of ventilation, 
heating, and drainage ; as food becomes 
more plentiful and varied, questions 
arise as to the wholesome and the un- 
wholesome ; with the growth of wealth 
and luxury come new wants, fresh com- 
plications, and diseases unknown in the 
primitive state. When man becomes a 
member of a community ; when the in- 
crease of population, the exigencies of 
trade and other causes lead to the for- 
mation of villages and towns; when 
densely packed masses of human beings 
have baurtered their birthri^t of pure 
air and the crystal spring f^r the atmo- 
sphere of a crowded street and water 
drawn from a filthy well ; when the 
mine and the workshop and the giant 
manufactory are peopled with living 
beings, and ships iire sailing every sea, 
— problems arise which are unknown to 
the individual or the family — problems 
which are amongst the most difficult, as 
they are amongst the most important, 
which can fall to man to consider. 

Climate. — Every portion of the 
globe possesses certain physical condi- 
^ns, such as configuration of country, 
geological structure, altitude or depres- 
sion, vegetation, sea or river, which, 
acting on and modifying the imponder- 
able forces of nature, give rise to what 
we term climate. The moisture in the 

air, the prevailing winds, the amount 
of sunshine or of rain, of heat and cold, 
are influenced and controlled by the 
natural features and geologic structure 
of the soil. What may be the action 
of these agents, apart from other condi- 
tions, on health, what part they take in 
the peculiarities of constitution and of 
race, is not so easily defined. "Man," 
says M. Boudin, " is in more respects 
than one the mere expression of the 
soil on which he lives," and this extreme 
estimate of the moulding force of ex- 
ternal nature has been ably advocated 
in one of Mr. Buckle's most engaging 
chapters; but, without attempting to 
assign any precise value to this or that 
modifying force, the real influence of 
climate on the health and development 
of man cannot be doubted. The wise 
physician pictured by Hippocrates is 
"he who has a due regard for the 
seasons of the year and the changes 
which they are observed to produce, to 
the states of the wind peculiar to each 
country, and to the quality of its waters ; 
who marks carefully the locality of 
towns and of the surrounding country, 
whether they are low or high, hot or 
cold, wet or dry," — and the advice of 
the great sanitarian was the result of a 
profound knowledge of nature's laws. 

No estimate of a people's health can 
be complete which ignores the atmo- 
spheric and telluric conditions under 
which they live, yet how few and frag- 
mentary are the records from which any 
reliable conclusions can be drawn. A 
medico-meteorological map of the coun- 
try is an impossibility at the present 
time, and so liftle is known with cer- 
tainty of the combined effect of any 
given climatic conditions, that the vege- 
tation, in the absence of personal ex- 
perience, will be found a more trust- 
worthy guide to the character of a 
climate dian any data obtained from 
instrumental or artificial sources. 

The medical man is constantly re- 
minded of the infiuence of weather in 
the persons of his patients, those accu- 
rate " body-ometers," as Sir Humphrey 
Davy used to call them, yet he is on- 


able to pronounce with certainty whether 
the effect is due to reduced barometric 
pressure, excess of ozone, preponder- 
ance of positive or negative electricity, 
increased or diminished humidity. The 
epidemic condition of seasons is a fact 
even now but ill understood, and the 
terms relaxing and bracing, loosely 
used to denote the moisture or dryness 
of the air, are probably the expression 
of more factors than one. It is only by 
accurate local observation, spread over 
long periods, that the relations of cli- 
matic changes to disease can be fully 

Am. — Intimately connected with 
climate is the air we breathe. Fresh 
air is a necessity of life, a first condi- 
tion of health ; but city air is no longer 
the purifying, life-giving body which is 
met with on the sea-shore or the moun- 
tain top. Its ozone is exhausted, it is 
iaden with poisons from multitudinous 
chimneys, and a dense crowd of organic 
impurities are revealed by the micro- 
scope or the transient sunbeam. In the 
courts and alleys it does not improve ; 
it is worse still in the workshop or the 
crowded house, where ventilation is 
ignored and the laws of cubic space 

Water. — Next in importance to 
air, and equally with it a necessity of 
life and a condition of health, is water. 
Pure air and pure water are man's 
right, and no change of place should 
make them inaccessible. Not only a 
wholesome supply for drinking, but 
baths and wash-houses should in every 
town be within the reach of the very 
poor. Dirt and disease are insepar- 
able, and it should be a lasting disgrace 
to the community that renders both in- 
evitable by a water Supply which is 
either impure or insufficient for the 
wants of the population. 

The source of water supply is per- 
haps the most momentous problem which 
a town's population can have to solve, 
and it has acquired still greater in^or- 
tance from recent investigations respect- 
ing the spread of disease ; yet not only 
the source, but the quantity, distribu- 
tion, and even quality of the water, are 
not unfrequently in the hands of those 
whose interests are not those of the 

consumers. A trading monopoly may 
decimate by cholera and diarrhoea, may 
degrade in filth and depravity, the poor 
of a town, which in cruel mockery they 
are said to serve. On the subject of 
purity much difierence of opinion still 
unhappily exists. What amount of 
impurity, what amount af animal pol- 
lution, if any, can bo consumed with 
safety? Does filtration, does exposure 
to air in the river's course, convert a 
sewage-laden water into a wholesome 
drink? are questions still seething in 
the crucibles of rival chemists, — ques- 
tions which it may yet be that the phy- 
siologist will be called upon to decide. 
Low levels will receive the drainage 
from higher parts and of streets as well. 
Sewers will leak or get blocked, old 
cesspools are never in repair, yet pumps 
are still used in the densest quarters 
of our towns and cities, and, as might 
be expected, are the firuitful source of 
typhoid and choleraic disease. 

Sewagb. — "Is industry free to 
tumble out whatever horror of refose 
it may have arrived at into the nearest 
crystal brook, regardless of gods and 
men, and little fishes ; is ii^^ industry 
free to convert all our rivers into 
sewers?" exclaims a modem writer, 
and with reason ; but an indignant pro- 
test is one thing, and a practical remedy 
for the evils declaimed against another. 

" It is ours to use air and water, *' 
says Dr. Gairdner, " and then to pass 
them on ; but woe to the man or the 
community, that detains or imprisons 
these, his servants of the hour, in their 
further execution of Grod's endless 
work. " The danger is now too weU 
known to be commented upon, and it 
is not going too far to say that the dis- 
posal of sewage is * one of the great 
sanitary questions of the day. River 
pollution has assumed gigantic propor- 
tions; yet the difficulties — sanitary, 
engineering and agricultural — in the 
way of change are appalling ; so great 
indeed that they have led thinking men 
to go back once more to the first rudi- 
ments of sanitary science, there, haply, 
to find wisdom and the right way. No 
single system, however, can be expected 
to accommodate itself to the outfall, the 
soil, and the topographical as weU as 


flooial conditions of each several centre 
of population. ' 

Dbaixage. — Drainage, tiiough close- 
Ij allied to sewage, has its very distinct 
purposes in the economy of health; 
and though the latter may be the most 
pressing, the former is equally import- 
ant in the removal of unsanitary con- 

The drainage of a town, however, 
may be complete, and yet, if the house 
dnuns are untrapped or out of repair, 
the results are no less disastrous. 

Indeed the more perfect, and the 
more impervious are the sewers, the 
greater Uie danger from the admission 
<^ typhoid and other poisons to our 
dwellings throu£^h every unguarded 
svenue in the drains which communi- 
cate with them. The facts bearing on 
this subject are innumerable, and a 
small pamphlet by Dr. Carpenter, of 
Croydon, England, called '^ Hints on 
House Drainage," may be mentioned 
•s giving in the smallest compass such 
information on the subject as every 
hooseholder should possess and ponder, 
if he values the health of his family 
end those under his roof. 

Tlie stench from a tallow factory or 
other offensive trade may pervade 
whole districts of a town, and sicken 
an within its reach. Pigsties may ex- 
ist in back courts and alleys, may 
poison wells with impunity, and be the 
bane of a whole neighborhood. Slaugh- 
|er-houses may remain in ther yery 
centre of the cleanest ( ?) towns, im- 
noticed, perhaps, but none the less 
dangerous ; and yet if no actual case 
of acute disease can be attributed to 
them, if not offensive to the eyes or 
nose of the inspector (appointed most 
frequently without other qualification 
than that of being right in politics), 
they are no nuisance in the eye of the 
law, and may continue imchecked in 
their silent work of sapping at their 
very foundations the health and strength 
of the people. 

Food. — The direct connection of 
drunkenness with insufficient food is 
now an admowledged fact, but it is one 
cause amongst many ; the adulterations 
of beer and spints, according to the 
inexorable laws of *' competition in 

business " by which thirst is stimulated, 
but never quenched — and the tainted 
water supply which drives the working 
man from lus home to the nearest pub- 
lic-house, are no less potent in the 
causation of intemperance and its train 
of disease. 

The adulterations of food are possibly 
less directly hurtful to health, and injure 
the morality of the seller only ; but it 
would be difficult to estimate the in- 
fluence on infant mortality of bread 
loaded with alum, milk from a diseased 
source, or diluted with water. In like 
manner it is hard to say what may be 
the direct ill consequences following 
the consumption of meat in any way 

The question is a vital one for the 
poor, and if the cheap joint is to be 
driven from the market, it must be by 
providing a substitute as cheap, and 
less hazardous to health and life. The 
problem thus connects itself with all 
the various attempts which have been 
made, with varjring success, to prepare 
food at little cost, which shall be whole- 
some, nutritious, and not unattractive 
in appearance, taste, or smell. 

Turning to medicine, adulteration 
meets us even here; and the most 
stringent regulations, followed up by 
vigihmt inspection, will be required if 
this the physician's sheet-anchor in dis- 
ease, is to do its part in the reduction of' 
mortality, and in the improvement of 
Public Health. The ssde of poisons 
in the guise of quack remedies bear- 
ing the Government stamp should be 
checked, and the substitution of a lotion 
for an innocent drug, with all its dis- 
tressing consequences, should be ren- 
dered impossible by the compulsory 
adoption of bottles unmistakable, even 
in the dark, from a marked peculiarity 
of form. 

Occupation. — Under the head of 
Occupation, I would include the kindred 
subjects of work, rest and recreation. 
Perhaps there is no portion of sani- 
tary legislation which has been so 
partial in its aim, so unsatisfactory in 
its results, as that which deals with the 
protection of workers in trades inju- 
rious to health. The reports to the 
English Qovernment on excessive long 



disease and its connection with the oo- 
cupation of the people, bj Dr. Green- 
how, in 1860 and 1861 ; of Dr. Guy, 
on industrial diseases connected with 
arsenic ; of Dr. Bristowe, on those con- 
nected with phosphorous, in 1862 ; on 
lead and mercurial poisoning, by Dr. 
Whitley, in 1863 ; of printers and 
tailors, by Dr. E. Smith, in the same 
year ; and others too numerous to men- 
tion, — all tell the same sad tale of lives 
crippled or prematurely ended in the 
great struggle of modem civilization. 
But not only are many trades un- 
healthy in themselves, — the hours of 
work are often far beyond human endu- 
rance ; and the protection afforded to 
minors should, in all reason, be ex- 
tended to adults. Trades Unions, with 
all their faults, have done good service 
where they have protested with all 
their strength against a reckless exten- 
sion of work time, and the curtailment 
of needful rest. Many hopeful move- 
ments have originated among the trade 
classes themselves, such as t^e early 
closing of shops and thq Saturday half- 
holiday ; but they are far from being 
universally adopted, and a radical 
remedy has still to be sought for an all- 
pervading evil. Turning to recreation, 
we seem to have travelled far indeed 
from the time when 

*< Toll remitUng, lont Its tarn to play. » 

Would that it could be recalled with 
all its boisterous mirth I We do, here 
and there, meet with an athletic Chris- 
tian pastor doing battle with vice and 
inmiorality, by leading the thoughtless 
ones of his flock to cricket on the vil- 
lage green. Working men's clubs with 
their lectures and evening classes; 
libraries, both public knd private ; with 
a host of entertainments, elevating and 
the reverse, invite the studious or social 
when their day of toil is over ; but for 
the masses in our towns and cities, the 
aimless Sunday walk, or the cheap ex- 
cursion, is often the one healthy recre- 
ation of their lives. Whilst athleticism 
has run riot amongst our middle class- 
es, its very rudiments remain to be 
taught in the lower strata of our town 
and city populations ; and much indeed 
must be added if we are to restore 

to the over-tasked thousands that heart 
and hope which alone can redeem 
them from pauperism and the depths 
of despair. 

Disease. — In treating of disease, I 
shall confine my attention to those types 
which may be almost certainly pre- 
vented or controlled by proper sanitary 
arrangements — the so-called test dis- 
eases of a people's health. 

The connection of cholera and diarr- 
hoea, with impure water supply as their 
most frequent source, is at length based 
on fact^ too numerous and too stubborn 
to be denied. The origin of typhoid in 
sewer gas and foul emanations, of ty- 
phus in over-crowding and destitution, 
is now questioned by a very small 
minprity of those competent to judge. 
Phthisis has been traced to its home in 
over-heated, ill-ventilated workshops^ 
and undrained tracts of country. 

The disorders of children are now 
known to be modified by the sanitary 
surroundings of those they attack ; yet 
how complete is the ignorance of local 
health authorities of the prevalence or 
intensity, not only of ordinary disease, 
but of epidemics even at their very 
doors. The annual returns of mortality 
are, with few exceptions, their first in- 
timation of the havoc which scarlatina, 
typhoid, or small-pox may have caused 
amongst the people they are sworn to 
protect. Early intimation of disease, 
and especially of preventable disease, is 
the very comer stone of all real and 
effective sanitary organization; and 
this leads me to say a few words on the 
subject of epidemic and contagious dis- 
ease. At the outset, we are met by a 
question, the answer to which may one 
day lead to the most sweeping changes, 
not only in the remedial, but also in the 
hygienic treatment of disease. What 
is infection ? Our whole practice in re- 
gard to it is based on an hypothesis ; the 
practical sanitarian cannot pause, and 
while rival schools are debating the ex- 
istence of an actual materies tnorhiy 
whether as germ or soluble ferment, he 
does battle as he can with, the dis^iase 
and death around him. What may be 
done where energy and heart are de- 
voted to the work has been shown in 
not a few instances which might be 


cited, where efficient inspection, fol- 
lowed by thorough disinfection of the 
house, the drains, and the neighbor- 
ing sewers, with attention to water 
sopplj, cleanliness, and the ordinary 
sanitary conditions, have been the 
means by which it has been possible 
to effect an incalculable saving of 
life, and, in more instances than one, 
to stamp out effectually, and at once, 
the first invasion of a deadly disease. 
Yet, there are cities, not a few, which 
boast of their cleanliness and health, 
where the poison of disease is allowed 
to fester and spread from street to 
street, unchecked and ahnost unheeded 
— where, if the sewers are attended to, 
no public provision exists for disinfeo- 
don — where, through lack of a public 
mortuary, the dead lie too o^n among 
the living, and where children are al- 
lowed to infect their fellows in the 
school, or in their common playground, 
the street. 

The difficulties of contending with 
epidemic disease are acknowledged to 
be great, and, with our present sanitary 
machinery, in some cases almost insu- 
perable. But we stand in a different 
position with respect to the most fatal 
of all contagions — that of small-pox ; 
and the various enactments respecting 
vaccination which have issued since the 
date of Jenner's immortal discovery, 
are but types of the*half-hearted and 
inefficient legislation which deals with 
the Public Health. A disease which, 
by strict attention to vaccination and 
preventive hygiene, might be stamped 
out forever, still claims its victims in 
our healthiest towns, where vaccination 
has become unfashionable, and has fallen 
into partial disuse. 

Sanitaby Sense. — If a people has 
no faith in cleanliness, no fa%ih in 
wholesome air and pure water ; if they 
are not themselves convinced of the 
dangers of over-crowding and of epi- 
demic disease, their ignorance and 
scepticism become the gravest obstacles 
to improvement. Some rudimentary 
instruction in sanitary matters is ur- 
gently needed, not only in our institu- 
tions and schoob for the poor, but in 
all our common knd lugher grade 
schools as well. ' The sanitary sense 

I should be carefully cultivated in the 
young ; and we might then hope, by a 
ready obedience to the reasonable laws 
of Health, to attain at last that '^ Har- 
mony of the moral Nature '* which is 
the end and aim of all true Sanitary 

Tea Wine. — Tea and moss up to 
the present time have not been re- 
garded by total abstainers as contain- 
ing any intoxicating properties ; but 
for the future they will be looked upon 
with considerable suspicion. ^^ The 
cup that cheers, but not inebriates,*' 
has been found by Dr. Thudichum to 
be capable of yielding a very excellent 
wine, wholesome and pleasant to the 
taste; while M. Stenburg, the Pro- 
fessor of Chemistry at Stockholm, has 
succeeded in extracting, by distillation, 
alcohol and brandv, from the Iceland 
Reindeer Moss, 't'he starch, which it 
contains in large quantities, is trans- 
formed into grape sugar, and subse- 
quently fermented. The value of the 
discovery lies not so much, perhaps, 
in the production of the alcohol as in 
the substitution of the Iceland Moss 
for other and more valuable grain crops, 
which are at present grown solely for 

Prop. Ttndall will have much to 
answer for in the results that may be 
expected from the spread of his ^^ dust 
and disease '' theory. It is stated by 
the Aih,eno&wm that a new idea has 
been broached in a recent lecture by 
Mr. Bloxam, the lecturer on chemistry 
to the department of artillery studies. 
He suggests that the committee on 
explosives, abandoning gun cotton, 
should collect the germs of small-pox 
and similar malignant diseases, in cot- 
ton or other dust-collecting substances, 
and load shells with them. We should 
then hear of an enemy dislodged from 
his position by a volley of tyhpus, or 
a few rounds of Asiatic cholera. We 
shall expect to receive the particulars 
of a new " Sale of Poisons " Act, im- 
posing the strictest regulations on the 
sale by chemists and apothecaries of 
packets of ^' cholera germs *' or '^ small- 
pox seed.** 





AN article under the title "Oar 
Bread," in the October number 
of "Good Ilealth," contains the fol- 
lowing statemeAt: "Phosphorus is a 
very essential ingredient for the nerve^ 
cells, while sulphur is a most necessary 
constituent of human bile. In no way 
can we substitute either in an artificial 
way. We might eat all the sulphur 
and all the phosphoric acid we please, 
without adding the least particle to our 

This statement suffers from at least 
two misapprehensions on the part of 
the author: — 

FitBt^ that there is phosphorus as 
such, or in some other form than that 
of a constituent of phosphoric acid in 
the nerve-cells and blood ; and 

Second^ that this constituent cannot 
be supplied to the blood by taking some 
form of phosphoric acid as food. 

In regard to the first, there is no evi- 
dence that phosphorus exists in health- 
ful tissues, including the blood, in any 
other form than as a constituent of 
phosphoric acid. This is equally true 
of the albumenoids contained in grains ; 
and of this any one may satisfy him- 
self fully, if he will saturate a grain 
of wheat with sulphate of copper, and 
examine a thin section of the grain 
thus charged with the microscope. 
He wiU find the gluten cells filled with a 
bluish-green compound of phosphoric 
acid and copper ; or if the wheat grain, 
or ordinary miller's bran be digested 
with weak acetic acid, and the infusion 
carefully examined, it will be found to 
contain phosphoric acid. This is the 
phosphoric acid which, chiefly, in the 
form of phosphate of potassa goes into 
the flour, but which to a very much 
greater extent is lost with the bran. 
Of the existence of phosphorus in the 
gluten of wheat, in any other form than 
as a constituent of phosphoric acid in 
some phosphate, science has as yet 
given no evidence ; and the phosphoric 
acid recognized in gluten, is as simply 
and purely phosphoric acid, as that of 
any phosphate in the laboratory. Of 

this phosphoric acid, Professor Grace 
Calvert, in a research presented last 
simmier to the British Association, and 
published in the English and Continen- 
tab Journals, was able to separate a 
large part, directly, by the action of 
water. He says, referring to the re- 
sults of analysis, " These numbers 
show that the largest part of the phos- 
phates of wheat are not in combination 
with the organic substance, but are 
present in free condition. They show 
further that the largest part of the 
phosphates present in wheat are soluble, 
and that in these soluble salts the phos- 
phoric acid is combined with potassa 
and magnesia, while in the insoluble 
phosphates the bases are represented by 
lime, oxide of iron, and a small quan* 
tity of magnesia." 

But let us look into the animal or- 
ganism : " Phosphorus,V the author of 
" Our Bread," says, " is a very essen- 
tial ingredient for the nerve-cells." This 
is only true in the sense that wherever 
phosphoric acid is, there all its elements 
must be present. Liebreich found Prot^ 
agon the principal constituent of cere- 
bral and nerve tissue, to be a phosphaiey 
in which the phosphoric acid was com- 
bined with glycerine and a compound 
ammonia, united with various fats, as 
margarine, oleine, etc. The same body 
has been found in the corpuscles of the 
blood, and in the yellow of the egg, — 
destined to become portions of the blood, 
and brain, and nerve-cells of the future 
chick. These results have been con- 
firmed by Hoppe-Seyler, and numerous 
other chemists. The phosphoric acid 
thus present contains all the phospho- 
rus, which, in earlier times, was sup- 
posed to be combined in some mysteri- 
ous way as an element of phosphorized 
fats. From some forms of muscle, it 
may be easily disengaged. It is drawn 
out from salted meats in pickling, and 
is found in the brine ; and what remains 
is known to possess reduced nutriUve 
value. Scurvy follows too close con- 
finement to a diet in which salted meats 
are the chief article of food. Plio»- 



phoric acid is so loosely combined in 
the fibre of fish muscle, that it readily 
dissolves away in water, and may be 
easily recognized by appropriate tests. 
A d[iet in which fish is a prominent 
oonstitnent, is conceived by some to be 
especially suited to persons engaged in 
severe labor of the brain. Virchow 
recognized phosphate of potassa as it 
exuded firom muscle in rt^or mortis, — 
tlie stiffening that follows death. 

Second, The author asserts that " in 
no way can we substitute * ♦ * phos- 
phoms in an artificial way. We might 
est all the phosphoric acid we please, 
without adding the least particle to our 
bkxMl-ibrmula." Let us see how this 
stmtement wiU bear examination. When 
wt prep€U^ acid — phosphate of lime, 
raagoesia, potassa or iron, by treatment 
of burned bones or mineral phosphate 
with sulphuric acid, and spread it as 
superphosphate on soils, it is taken up 
through the roots and deposited as phos* 
{^late in the bran and flour of the wheat, 
and we eat it as a constituent of the 
^Qten. When we add the same phos- 
phate to the flour in making the bread, 
it enters the stomach just as much a 
phosphate as if it had come in with the 
bran, and it passes from the stomach 
to become a constituent of the chyle 
and the blood, just as much in the one 
esse as in tbe other. 

Liet us glance a moment at the con- 
clusion to which we are driven by the 
assumption of the general principle 
that the so-called artificial introduction 
of the mineral constituents of the organ- 
ism will not add to the constituents or 
" formula " of the blood. If compounds 
of phosphoric acid or phosphates may 
not be supplied to the food, where de- 
ficient, because of their mineral origin, 
what is there to justify the use of salt ! 
Can any one who knows anything of 
j^ysiology or of chemistry say that the 
soda of the common salt we eat does 
not contribute to the phosphate of soda 
of the blood ; the phosphoric acid of 
which received with the food, was for 
the most part in the form of phosphate 
of potassa? Or can we believe that 
iron administered as medicine does not 
become part and parcel of the blood ? 
Or that the lime that fowls and birds 

generally, of both sexes, crave, and must 
have with their food, does not contribute 
to the lime of their bones, or the fibrine 
of their blood? The habits of wild 
animals in seeking salt licks, show that 
the taste for salt is not an artificial one. 
Their blood demands phosphate of soda, 
while their food furnishes chiefly phos- 
phate of potassa. The experiments of 
Chossat, in 1844, demonstrated that 
pigeons could not be sustained on pure 
wheat. In time their bones hpcame 
spongy and friable, and at length the 
birds perished. But supplied with lime 
— either as phosphate or carbonate, with 
the wheat, their health was maintained, 
or entirely restored, after having been 
greatly impaired from eating pure wheat 
alone. The explanation is simple: 
wheat contains a great excess of phos- 
phate of potassa, and but little phos- 
phate of lime. With lime introduced 
into the stomach in the form of carbon- 
ate, mutual decomposition yields phos- 
phate of lime, which is essential to the 
formation of bones, and to a less extent 
of other tissues. To show how absurd 
the doctrine that mineral matter cannot 
add to the "formula" of the blood is, 
— let us consider for a moment what 
a thoroughly pure mineral substance 
water is I Will it be maintained that 
none of aU the water we drink be- 
comes part of the organism ! 

There is another consideration that 
should have place in the discussion of 
this question : the assimilation of min- 
eral matter is^n essential condition of 
organized Kfe. It is the plain law of 
development — of growth and repair — 
the law of nature. 

The observations of Pasteur showed 
that humbler plants and animals alike 
possess the power of appropriating the 
phosphates of purely mineral origin to 
build up their tissues ; and nothing has 
yet been discovered to show that the 
higher forms of animal life, including 
man, are deficient in any of the powers 
of assimilation, possessed by the hum- 
bler types of animal life. 

" Death is nothing else than an op- 
eration of nature ; and if any one is 
afraid of an operation of nature, he 
is a child." 




OF the hot drinks that form the daily 
refreshment of the human race, 
in^ions of leaves stand pre-eminent, 
and particularly those derived from 
one or other of the various tea plants, 
which are consumed by more people 
than all the others united. Tea forms 
the beverage of the three hundred 
millions that inhabit China ; it is largely 
in use by the natives of Japan, Thibet, 
and Nepaul; in Asiatic Russia the 
poorest enjoy it ; whilst in Europe, the 
' United States, Canada, British Amer- 
ica, and Australasia, all classes are 
unanimous in its praise. 

Somewhat akin to tea is mate^ the 
leaves of the Ilex Paraguayenais^ or 
Brazilian holly. Although not con- 
sumed over such a wide area as tea 
proper, it is as much the universal bev- 
erage of the southern American repub- 
lics as China and Assam tea are of 
Europe and Asia ; but it labors under 
the disadvantages of being somewhat 
deficient in theine (the active principle 
of tea and coffee), and becoming black 
and unsightly if left to cool. This ten- 
dency to darken is owing to a consider- 
i^le amount of astringent acid, similar 
to the tannin of oak bark, which enters 
into its composition. 

The principle to which both bever- 
ages owe their popularity, exists in the 
former to the extent of. 6 per cent, in 
green, 2.55 per cent, in black, and 1.25 
per cent, in the latter. It is a remark- 
able substance, and well merits a special 
paragraph. If tea or mat6 leaves, re- 
duced to an impalpable powder, be 
placed on a watch glass covered with a 
white paper cone and subjected to a 
gentle heat, minute colorless crystals 
collect in the form of a sublimate, inside 
the cone. They are known amongst 
chemists as theine or caffeine, and are 
almost identical in their composition. 
Theine has no smell, a very slightly 
bitter taste, and seems to exercise little 
influence on the flavor or smell of the 
leaves from which it is extracted. But, 
although quiescent in the leaf, its won- 
derful properties at once make them- 
selves felt when introduced into the 

animal economy. Theine is one of a 
small group of substances which are 
remarkably rich in nitrogen, possessing 
nearly three-tenths of its weight of 
that element, a quantity which exists in 
only a very few other known com- 
pounds. Its chemical composition is as 
follows : — «- 

Carbon . 


If we divide ordinary wheat into two 
parts, viz., the gluten or sustaining 
portion, and the starch, or heat-impart- 
ing element, we find that theine fulfils 
the functions of the former. Possess- 
ing this extraordinary property, it stands 
to a certain extent in the place of food, 
by lessening the natural waste of the 
body, so that old people who can no 
longer digest enough of ordinary food, 
find in good tea, food, medicine, a gentle 
stimulant, a solace to their failing 
strength, a prop to their declining years. 
No wonder, therefore, that the fragrant 
beverage should be equally acceptable 
to the aged millionaire confined to his 
luxurious and palatial residence, and 
the poor seamstress stitching in her 
forlorn attic. 

It must be evident even to the most 
desultory reader that any new product 
capable of use as tea or mat6, and 
containing a fair proportion of the 
same chemical constituent which dis- 
tinguishes them, is entitled to a niche 
in popular favor. Such a position we 
claun for prepared coffee leaves. So 
far back as the year 1845, Professor 
Blume, of Leyden, who had spent 
much time in Java, pointed out that an 
infrision of roasted coffee leaves had 
from time immemorial been a favorite 
beverage among the natives of the 
Eastern Archipelago. In Sumatra, 
especially, it formed the only drink of 
the entire population. Mr. Ward, resi- 
dent many years at Pedang, in Sumatra, 
thus wrote to the PharmacetUical Jouv'^ 
nal (vol. xiii., page 208) : " As a bever- 
age, the natives universally prefer the 



leaf to the berry, giving as a reason 
that it contains more of the bitter prin- 
ciple and is more nutritious. " This is 
borne out by analysis, it being found 
that roasted coffee-leaves contain about 
1.25 per cent, of theine or caffeine (the 
same amount present in mat^) , prepared 
coffee beans only yielding from 0.117 
to 1.08 per cent. The same author 
continues : ''In the lowlands, coffee is 
not planted for the berry, not being 
sufficiently productive ; but for the leaf 
the people plant it round their houses for 
their own use. It is an undoubted fact 
tliat everywhere they prefer the leaf to 
the berry. While the cxilture of the 
coffee plant for its fruit is limited to 
particular soils and more elevated cli- 
mates, it may be grown for the leaf 
wherever, within the tropics, the soil 
is sufficient^ fertOe. " 

The beverage called coffee is an in^- 
sion, or, more generally, as prepared in 
this country, a decoction, of the roasted 
and ground seeds of a shrub called by 
botanists the coffea arahica. This plant 
has, however, many varieties, which 
are named after the various countries 
where they are produced, such as the 
coffea maurUiana^ from Mauritius, etc. ; 
but the true coffee arahica always keeps 
the lead in the market. 

The coffea arahica is said to grow 
wild in the mountainous districts of 
Abyssinia, and appears to have been 
roasted and infused by the people of 
that country from the earliest ages. 
We next hear of its use in Persia, and 
subsequently of its introduction into 
Arabia and Constantinople. The 
Greeks, with their natural aptitude for 
trade, soon took the matter up, spread- 
ing its use abroad, and, as we are told 
by Dr. Johnson, it was first sold as a 
beverage in London by a scion of that 
enterprisiug race named Pasqua, in 
1652. Some years afterwards it was 
introduced into France, and soon began 
to take such a hold upon the taste of 
Europeans, as to become, what it now 
is, one of the most universal beverages 
throughout the entire civilized portion 
of the world. 

The coffee plant, which sometimes 
attains the height of eighteen or even 
twenty feet, but is more generally about 

ten feet in altitude, comes into a state 
of maturity as regards production of 
berries in three years after it is planted, 
and usually continues to be fruitful for 
fifteen years. It bears a white flower, 
which quickly changes to a fruit, in the 
heart of which the coffee seeds, com- 
monly but erroneously ccdled berries, 
are deposited. The fruit when ripe is 
plucked from the plant into bags, the 
pods subsequently opened, and the seeds 
removed, dried, and stored. The coffee 
is frequently kept in store for a long 
time before being sent into the market, 
because it is found to " ripen," or im- 
prove in aroma by keeping; indeed 
Mr. Ellis states, that common American 
coffee, if kept for ten years, will be 
quite equal to good Arabian. 

The effect of coffee on the system is 
exhilarating, while it yet soothes, lessens 
the desire for solid nourishment, and 
retards the waste of the tissues. It 
enables persons to bear fatigue, both 
mental and bodily, and is constantly 
much in vogue with those " who bum 
the midnighC oil." It has been stated 
by the advocates of temperance prin- 
ciples to be much better than alcohol 
as a counter-agent against the extreme 
temperature of a northern winter, and 
that those who partake of the latter 
substance, under the various p^^etexts of 
*' taking the chill off," or "just a tooth- 
ful to keep out the cold," would be 
much better protected if they could be 
persuaded to take their ^^ nip "in the 
shape of a cup of coffee. The wake- 
ful properties of coffee are well known, 
and it is this which undoubtedly gave 
rise to the-amusing, though improbable, 
story of its discovery. It seems, so 
saith this veracious legend, that an 
Abyssinian owned an ass, which he 
tied nightly to a bush adjoining his tent. 
Hitherto the patient animal had not 
rendered the shades of evening hideous 
by unwonted sounds, but all at once 
it gave evidences of wakefulness, and 
disturbed its master's rest by loud vo- 
cal demonstrations. Notwithstanding 
the kicks and thumps showered upon 
its devoted carcase by its irate lord, it 
persevered in nocturnal braying. Worn 
out at length, he watched and observed 
the animal eat, with infinite relish, a 



quantity of berries from the bush. 
Struck with a bright* idea, he did so 
likewise, but, failing to discover any 
merit in the fruit, he roasted it, and 
found that his eyes were opened, that 
sleep was hindered, and that in fact he 
had made a valuable discovery ; and so 
in future he changed the donkey's 
quarters, and appropriated the fragrant 
coffee to his own use. 

These effects of coffee are due to 
three principles which it contains, viz. : 
(1) a volatile oil; (2) a substance 
called caffeic acid; and (3) an alk- 
aloid called theine or caffeine. The 
volatile oil does not exist in the raw 
seed, but is developed in the process of 
roasting ; and direct experiments have 
shown that we must, in some measure, 
ascribe to this oil the exhilarating 
effects of coffee. The caffeic acid is 
on astringent body akin to tannic acid, 
and, although it is somewhat altered 
in the roasting. Dr. Stenhouse states 
that " chemists generally are disposed 
to refer the flavor and peculiar prop- 
erties of coffee as a beverage more to 
this acid than any other constituent." 
The third important matter in coffee 
is thcine, or caffeine. 

The exact composition of coffee will 
be apparent from the foUowmg anal- 
ysis by M. Payen : — 


Water ..•••• 
Fatty sahAtanccs .... 
Glucone, dextrine, and yegeUblo add 
Legumino, cuseino, (gluten) . 
Oanbntc of potanh und caffeine . 
£liirogc!*oii0 •ubstancoa • • 
Free caflxiino ..... 
Concrc'ttf cMontial oil . . . 
Aromatic fluid eMeatial oil . . 
Mineral matter • • . . 













In addition to the above. Dr. Sten- 
house states, that coffee contains 7 per 
cent, of cane sugar. 

From all these considerations, it is 
evident that coffee is an article for 
which it is not easy to find an imitation ; 
as any other plant, to be equally useful, 
must contain the three important con- 
stituents above referred to : and there 
is apparently no other seed known, 
^ich would fully answer as a sub- 
stitute in this respect. Looking to the 
great activity and peculiar properties 

of these substances, we cannot help 
seeing that, in permitting, as we now 
do, the admixture with coffee of veg- 
etable matters totally devoid of them, 
we allow a serious injury to be done 
to many who depend on this beverage 
as an aid to the quickening and endur- 
ance of both their mental and bodilj 

Will Disease terminate in Health 

without the use op medicine. the 

people are uniformly led to believe that 
it will not. Almost every practising 
physician prescribes as if the life of his 
patient depended upon the remedies 
given, and claim any favorable change 
in disease, and the final getting well, as 
the result of his medication. Many, no 
doubt, conscientiously believe that the 
sick live by medicine, and would die 
without it, and no matter how crude or 
irrational the practice, the getting well 
is due to it. 

No man is in a condition to adopt a 
rational practice, until he is satined 
that in all diseases a very largo percent- 
age will recover without medicine. Or 
to state it in different language, until 
he is satisfied that the mortality will be 
a very small percentage. It has been 
conclusively proven by some of the best 
observers in England and Germany, 
that the mortality in the gravest of the 
acute diseases is but from one to five 
per cent, with diet and rest alone. The 
observations were of infiammations of 
all the important organs, and of the con- 
tinued fevers, including epidemics and 
endemics of typhus and typhoid. It 
was not based upon closet practice, nor 
a few mild cases in private practice, but 
took hundreds of cases in hospital prao- 
tice where records were carefully kept. 

When a man is satisfied that the 
natural tendency of all disease is to 
recovery, and the province of medicine 
is not to save life, he is ready to ask 
himself the question, what is the province 
of medicine f I should answer the ques- 
tion in this way: It is to mitigate 
suffering and render the patient as 
comfortable as possible. It is to aid 
nature, lessen the duration of the disease, 
and to give a good recovery without 
structural lesion. — Eclec. Med. Jour. 





Fint Paper. 

CHEMISTRY, the microscope, and 
the other advantages of research 
which the advance of science has given, 
wiien united to a thorough knowledge 
of Anatomy and Physiology, enables us 
to trace the blood through every stage 
of its change, discovers to us all the 
avenuea through which it passes, how- 
ever minute and intricate they may be, 
and points out to us the modus operandi 
by which the body is supplied with 
new material for assimilation, and the 
manner in which the '^ waste" pro- 
duced by the wear and tear of the sys- 
tem in its every-day life is carried off. 
Yet, despite the facility with which we 
now recognize all these important facts, 
the theory of the circulation of the 
bk>od was never practically demon- 
strated until Wm. Harvey, au English 
surgeon of Charles First's time, proved 
it, although Hippocrates and Aristotle 
had some idea of it, and Servetus 
taught it publicly, and was burnt at 
the stake for his temerity just a cen- 
tury before Harvey publicly advanced 
the theory anew in 1625, and supported 
it by reports and demonstrations of 
his experiments on living animals. 
Oddly enough, his " Report on the 
Circulation of the Blood," though so 
old, and the first published, is the best 
description of the circulation, and of 
the movements of the heart, in exist- 
ence to-day. He obtained the first 
correct idea of the heart's movements, 
by opening the chests of living ani- 
mals, sustaining life by artificial respira- 
tion, while he observed the movements 
of the organ in its natural position. 
Whcifl a correct knowledge of the cir- 
culation was gained, it more effectually 
aided to establish the science of med- 
icine on a true and perfect basis, than 
any other discovery ever made in con- 
nection with it. The shortest general 
description of the manner in which the 
circulation is carried on will be this, — 
a central organ in the chest — the heart 
—acting as an engine or pump — as 

you please — one portion of it sending 
the blood out by a set of pipes — the 
arteries — all over the body to the head, 
trunk, limbs, skin, muscles, etc., receiv- 
ing it back again by another line of 
pipes — the veins — then a different ac- 
tion of the heart forcing the blood into 
the lungs by another system of vessels 
— the pulmonary arteries — to be puri- 
fied, and the renewed blood coming 
back to the heart by the pulmonary 
veins, to be immediately sent over the 
body again ; thus you see the term cir- 
culation of the blood is well applied, as 
the fluid, in its course through the 
system, does move continually in a 
circle, starting from a central point, and 
returning to it after it has completed 
the circuit* 

The, Heart. 

For a proper knowledge of the sub- 
ject, we must first consider the heart 
itself, which is the great central organ, 
the seat of life, the engine which sup- 
plies the power for the beautiful and 
delicate machinery used in carrying 
into effect the great purpose for which 
the circulation was given so prominent 
a place in the human economy. 

The location of the organ is well 
known ; occupying, as it does, a spaoe 
about the breadth of a palm to the letl 
of the breast-bone, with the point pul- 
sating just below the nipple of the 
breast of the same side, and is enclosed 
in the bony cavity of the chest formed 
by the sternum or breast-bone, ribs or 
vertebra. The heart, as constituted, is 
a hollow muscle of four cavities, two 
on each side, with several large vessels 
opening into them, and supplied with 
nerves and blood-vessels for its own 
nourishment, etc. In shape it bears 
but a slight resemblance to the represen- 
tation of it usually seen on valentines, 
moulded in confectionery etc., as fiat, 
thin, symmetrically curved, and ^ sharp 
pointed, but, on the contrary, is full, 
round, and irregular at the top in shape. 



JL good idea of lU trae form can be 
gained by aa inspection of a sheep's 
heart, which bears a close resemblance, 
in shape and size, to the human heart. 
It lies in the chest in front of, and be- 
tween the lungs, suspended in a soil 
membranous bog, — the pericardium 
— which secretes a fluid for the double 
purpose of keeping the membrane itself 
moist, and thus presenting a smooth 

sh'ppery surface for the heart to glide 
over in its fnovemente, and eupplj^ng' 
just fluid enough for tbe organ to move 
in with freedom. The engraving at 
the head of this article will illustrate 
the position and relations of the heart, 
lung8,andgreatTessels(Platel). This 
is the appearance presented when the 
ribs and sternum are removed. 
As we have before stated, the heart 

I Artery of tlw loft HO. 
^Talo of th> laft wm. 

. Id IhB «DgnTkDf U» left luof le reprei 

ia a double organ, with two sets of 
chambers, each acting independently in 
a measure of the other, and each set 
containing blood of a different charac- 
ter, the chambers ou the right side 
containing venous or impure blood, 
and those on the left side pure ar- 
terial blood. The inside of these cavi- 
ties is lined with a smooth shining 
membrane, which presents a favorable 
surface for tlie blood to glide over. 
The right, or uenous side of the heart, 
as well as the left, or arterial side, 
consists of two chambers, an upper one, 
— the auricle, — and lower one, — the 
ventricle, — with an opening between 
each auricle and ventricle, but no com- 
munication between tbe two anriclea 
or between the two ventricles. The 

auricle on the right side receives the 
blood on its return from its coursa 
through the STStem, from two great 
veins, the rente cavte, in which all the 
other veins of the body terminate. 
This blood, which has discharged its 
main of&ce, viz., supplying the different 
tissues of the body with material for 
nutrition, and is loaded with the effete 
matters and refuse of tbe system, ia 
forced into the lower chamber or ven- 
tricle just beneath the auricle, by a 
power of contraction which tbe auricle, 
in common with all other parts of the 
heart, possesses ; from here it is in turn 
expelled by the contraction of the ven- 
tricle through a large vessel, — the 
pulmonary artery, — whence it passes 
to the lungs, and coming in contact with 



llie air, it ie osTgenaled or erated, 
purified of most of its effete elements, 
by yieldiog up ibe earbonic acid gas 

The beart Islil ope 
nrtcln ud veiitrtdi! 
n,((rMl upper vein 

witb which it is impregnated, and tak- 
ing oxygen from the air contained in 
the reapiralory vesicles of the lungs, 
and is thus rendered fit for a new 
coarse through the body. When the 
pulmonary arteries enter the lungs, 
they divide into innumerable litile 
branches which extend ihrongh the 
snbslance of the luD;rs, and come in 
contact with the small branches of the 
bronchi, or air-lubes. A thin perme- 
able membraoe alone divides the ves- 
sels tfaroDgh which the air reaches the 
blood, imparts to it the vital principles 
of Ibe air, and relieves the blood of 
the efTele matters it has accumulated 
dorin;; its passaire through the system, 
and wbicb render it poisonous and 
unfit for ntilrilion imtil it has been 
purified. It will be seen that the 
blood does not come in actual contact 
with the air, but is separated f¥om it 
by the thin respiratory membrane 
spoken of, and the oxygen and carbonic 
acid gas are exchanged through this 
membrane. The blood passes from the 
minnte terminal braticbesof the pulmon- 
Biy artery in the lungs into the similar 
branches of the pulmonary veins, which 
conunnnicate freely with the arterial 
capillaries, and end id four large veins 
opening into the tipper chamber or att- 
Vot. n. — a. 

ricle of the lell, or arterial side of the 

This pulmonary circulation just de- 
scribed is an independent one, carrying 
the venous blood from the chambers on 
the right side of the heart to the luo^s 
to be purified, and bock again from the 
lungs to the left side of the heart. It 
is quite distinct from the corporeal cir- 
culation in which the arterialized blood 
passes from tlie left auricle (into which 
it has just been received from the 
lungs) into the ventricle beneath, and 
by the contraction of the ventricle it in 
forced into the aorta, or main artery 
of the body, and from this passes 
through innumerable subdivisions of 
arteries, until their ramifications be- 
come BO minute that they can only be 
traced by the microscope. The fact 
that we cannot prick the point of the 
finger with the finest needle without 
wounding one of these vessels and 
drawing blood, proves how extensive 
and minute their ramifications arc, and 
they are distributed thickly through the 
most remote parts of the body, no por- 
tidn of it being so distant or S9 min- 
ute, but it requires their presence for 
its nutrition, and they penetrate even 
the substance of the bones, the base of 
the nails, and glauds of ttie hair, as well 
as the most delicate and transparent 
parts of the eye. During the piw^agc of 
the blood through this extensive system 
of vessels, all the tissues of the body have 
been appropriating from it the materiab 
needed for the entire animal system, 
the muscular and nervous systems, and 
the bones, flndmg in it the material 
needed for tbcir repair and for maio- 
laining them in a healthy condition ; 
and the waste material, the result of the 
wear and tear of the systein, has been 
discharged into it, and the blood having 
arrived at the termination of the ar- 
terial capillaries, is taken up by the 
capillaries of the veins, carried hu^ck to 
(he heart tlirough the venous system, 
emptied into the right auricle, and 
again goes through the right ventricle 
and pulmonary artery to tho lungs. 
Just previous to reaching the right au- 
ricle, tho blood receives into it tho 
products of digestion ; and, for the ben- 
efit of those who may not have a proper 



knowledge of the process of digestion, 
and of the manner in which food is 
converted into material fit for mixture 
with the blood, I will simply say, that 
after being received into the stomach, 
the food is converted into a milky fluid, 
mainly by the action of different secre- 
tions of the stomach and intestines, and 
it is conveyed from the intestines by 
the process of absorption through a set 
of vessels, which terminate in a com- 
mon receptacle in the centre of the 
body ; and the contents of this recep- 
tacle are poured into one of the large 
veins just before it reaches the right 
auricle of the heart, so that a few hours 
after each meal a supply of material 
for new blood is added to that in the 
vessels. This fahvXum^ or prepared 
food, is mixed with the venous blood, 
and in common with it is carried to the 
limgs to be purified. 

Contraction of the Heart, 

The power of contraction which the 
heart possesses, and which is the main- 
spring of its action, is due chiefly to the 
form of its construction ; it being, as 
before stated, a hollow muscle, the fibres 
being spiral and circular in their ar- 
rangement, and are thus capable of 
enclosing and contracting on the au- 
ricles and ventricles, squeezing out the 
blood by almost the same action that 
a hand would squeeze water from a 
bladder, by being firmly closed on it. 
The auricle contracts in this way on 
the blood which has just been poured 
into it by the veins, squeezing the blood 
down into the ventricle, and immediately 
relaxes for the receipt of a new supply ; 
and as the auricle dilates again, the 
ventricle contracts and sends the blood 
on through the artery. Now it will be 
asked, why does not the blood flow 
back again into the auricle as well as 
into the artery, when the ventricle con- 
tracts? This would occur if not pre- 
vented by sets of valves at each opening, 
which consist of two or three litUe flaps 
of membrane attached to the sides of 
the opening between the auricle and 
ventricle, and lying quietly on the side 
of the chamber while the blood pursues 
its onward course ; but, like the flood- 
gates in a stream, any movement of 

the fluid backwards closes them. Valves 
are placed between each auricle and 
ventricle, and here there is a peculiar 
arrangement of little muscular cords or 
strings (chordae tendinae) attaching the 
free ends of the valves to the side of 
the chamber. These cords regulate 
the motion of the valves, which in the 
right ventricle consists of three flaps of 
membrane (and is called the tricuspid 
or three-toothed valve), which being 
forced up by the attempted reflux of the 
blood on the contraction of the ventricle, 
meet in the centre of the opening be- 
tween the auricle and ventricle, and are 
held in check by the little muscular 
cords, and thus effectually prevent the 
return of the blood to the auricle. 
Wlien the ventricle relaxes at the end 
of the contraction, and the blood flows 
into it from the auricle on its contrac- 
tion, the valves fall back again to the 
side of the chamber, and remain quies- 
cent, until the attempted reflux of the 
blood on the next contraction of the 
ventricle forces them up again. This 
action of the valves is a truly wonder- 
ful contrivance, and no machine ever 
invented by man excels this in nicetj 
and certainty of action ; for while the 
valves remain in a healthy condition, it 
is impossible for the blood to flow other- 
wise than in the required direction. 
The blood having passed into the right 
ventricle, which dilates at the moment 
the auricle contracts, the walls of the 
ventricle close tightly on it, force the 
last drop of blood into the pulmonary- 
artery, ihe valves, as we have shown, 
preventing any return of the fluid to the 
upper chamber. The blood then passes 
through the pulmonary artery to the 
lungs, valves being placed here again, 
to insure its flowing forwards, as the 
weight of the column of blood would 
of course tend to force itself back, but 
three valves, called the semilunar valvesy 
from their half-moon shape, are placed 
at the opening of the artery, and lie 
quietly on the side of the vessel, point- 
ing in the direction in which the blood 
should flow, but closing together when 
the force of the contraction of the ven- 
tricle is expended, and the column of 
blood tends to fall back. Afler bein^ 
prepared in the lungs for its new coarse 



through the body, the blood passes into 
the puhnonary veins through the com- 
municaUon between their capillaries to 

those of the pulmonary arteries, and, 
reaching the left auricle of the heart 
by these veins, the same system of alter- 


DUgrams Illustrating the relative changec In the fonn of the auricle and ventricle during eontraeUoiL. 
— Tigare B, anrirle contrucUng and pourlug into ventricle. /, the auricle. ^, the ventricle. <<, mitral 
Tilrea open, k, semilunar valves of artery closed. Figure C, ventricle contracting and fbrdng the blood 
lato the aorta, a, auricle. 6. the ventricle, d d, mitral valves closed, tf somi-lnuar valves open, o, Uhe 
■oita. The arrows indicate the direction of the currenu of blood. 

nate contraction and relaxation, — the 
blood passing from the auricle to the 
Tentride and from the ventricle to the 
artery, — is repeated, so from the left 
auricle the fluid is forced into the left 
ventricle and out through the aorta over 
the whole body, valves being placed at 
the aorta agnio (semUunar^ like those in 
the pulmonary artery), and at every 
other opening for keeping the blood in 
its proper course. It is the contraction 
of the left ventricle, and the consequent 
tilting up of its point (which forms the 
apex of the heart), that causes the im- 
pulse or " beat " which is felt on the 
outside of the chest between the fifth 
and sixth ribs of the left side. It is the 
impulse given to the blood by the heart's 
contraction, that sends the fluid rapidly 
on its course through the arteries, com- 
municating the same motion to the 
vessels themselves ( mainly on account 
of the elasticity of their coats), and 
which constitutes the *' pulse," which is 
felt wherever the arteries approach the 
surface, as in the wrist and temple. 
We will dilate further on this subject 
of the pulse, when speaking of the ar- 

The number of the heart's contrac- 
tions in a healthy person, amount to 
nearly seventy-five in the minute, or 
about four thousand per hour: nearly 
ten thousand contractions and relaxa- | 

tions daily. The rapidity of its con- 
traction and relaxation, and the amount 
of work it performs, is wonderfuL 
Think of three hundred and fifty pounds 
of blood passing through the heart 
every hour, or all the blood in the body 
(some twenty-five pounds) being forced 
tiirough every five minutes I When we 
think of this fact in connection with 
large animals, the eflect is wonderful. 
The. heart of a whale throws out a 
dozen gallons of blood at every pulsa- 
tion, and the aorta is a foot in diameter. 
In so large an animal the blood rushes 
through the larger vessels with the 
force and velocity of a torrent. It is 
wonderful that a machine so delicately 
constructed, and required to labor so in- 
cessantly, should be able to perform its 
functions steadily without a moment's 
rest or cessation for sixty, seventy, or 
eighty years, without great liability to 
get out of order in some of its delicate 
parts, and without the necessity of re- 
pair or renewal ; yet so it is, and the 
whole idea gained from a knowledge of 
this wonderful organization is one cal- 
culated to fill the mind with admiration 
and reverence for the power of the 

In our next number we will speak of 
the soimds or rhythm of the heart, and 
of the action of the valves. 




BY F. 0. BARFP, lf.A. 

6eooDd Paper. 

I' iVlNG, as we do, in an age when 
^ scientific discoveries have ren- 
dered the detection of certain poisons 
covnparatively easy, we have no fear 
of systematic poisoning, as it was at 
one time carried on in Europe. The 
idea of a person dying slowly from a 
poidon intentionally administered but 
rarely enters the mind, and but few 
cases of slow poisoning have occurred 
i», this century. There is something 
positively fiendish in the disposition 
which can bear to be the cause of the 
terrible suffering produced by the con- 
tinued administration of small doses of 
aa irritant poison. One would think 
that the anxious looks, indicative of 
more than bodily pain, the excruciat- 
ing agony, the delirious excitement, 
the blood-shot eyes, the nervous twitch- 
ing of the body of the sufferer would 
appeal, and not in vain, to the poisoner 
for mercy. But to such depths of 
brutality can human beings fall, that 
history tells us of one who caused 
the death of not less than six hun- 
dred persons by a poison which owed 
its effects mainly to arsenic. A woman 
Bamed Toffania, at Naples, in the 
seventeenth century, sold a poison 
which was called Aqua della Tof- 
fania, also Acquetta de Napoli. Six 
w eight drops of this poison were 
sufficient to destroy life. She was 
discovered and imprisoned in 1709. 
Confession of her crimes was extorted 
by the rack. She was afterwards 
strangled. The best authorities assert 
that this acquetta contained arsenic. 
The effects produced by this poison, 
which was tasteless and clear as water, 
are given by Dr. Christison. " A cer- 
tain indescribable change is felt over 
the whole body, which leads the per- 
son to complain to his physician. The 
physician examines and reflects, but 
finds no symptoms, either external or 
internal — no constipation, no vomit- 
ing, no inflammation, no fever. In 
diort, he can advise only patience, strict 

regimen, and laxatives. The malady, 
however, creeps on, and the physician 
is again sent for. Still he cannot 
detect any symptom of note. He in- 
fers that there is some stagnation or 
corrupting of the humors, and again 
advises laxatives. Meanwhile the poi- 
son takes firmer hold of the system ; 
languor, weariness, and loathing of 
food continue ; the nobler organs grad- 
ually become torpid, and the lungs in 
particular at length begin to suffer. 
In a word, the malady is from the 
first incurable; the unhappy victim 
pines away insensibly, even in the 
hands of the physician ; and thus is he 
brought to a miserable end through 
months or years, according to his ene- 
my's desire. " In the descriptioa given 
by Hahneman of the effects of this 
poison, the sufferings are stated to be 
most intense. In a later case, in which 
Dr. Christison was consulted by the 
Crown, where death was produced by 
zlow poisoning by arsenic, the symp- 
toms were of a character too painful 
to be recorded here. The symptoms 
of acxde poisoning by arsenic have 
already been described in the first 
article on poisons. In slow poisoning 
they differ in some respects, the effect 
of the poison on the nervous system 
is more marked; there is frequently 
paralysis of the limbs, partial or 
entire. It sometimes begins in the 
hands, and then extends to the arm. 
Sometimes ejpileptoid seizures occur, 
and sometimes there are spasms, such 
as occur in tetanus (lock-jaw). Even 
after recovery, the paralytic state fire- 
quently continues for some time. A 
case is related by Amatus Lusitanus 
in which mania occurred, the person 
became so mad as to burst his fetters, 
and jump out of the window of his 

It has already been stated that 
arsenic is used in the manufacture of 
candles. Some years ago, some ex- 
periments were made by Mr. Everitt on 



German candles. A great many exam- 
ples of the so-called German wax or 
stearine composition caudles were ex- 
amined, and found to contain arsenious 
acid in varying quantitie3, from as 
much as ten grains to eighteen grains 
in the pound. Mr. Everitt also made 
experiments to determine in what form 
the arsenic leaves the candle during 
burning. He passed the products of 
combustion into a glass bulb, and 
through a tube eighteen inches long 
and one inch wide, which was kept 
cooL A quantity of water was con- 
densed in the tube, which vsras found 
to contain arsenious acid. A small 
quantity of a white sublimate was col- 
lected in that part of the tube immedi- 
ately over the candle, which was 
proved to be arsenious acid. It was 
also discovered that the arsenic was 
used in the form of arsenious acid, for 
when different parts of a candle were 
analyzed, it was found that the upper 
part contained more of this substance 
than the lower; and this would be 
accomited for by the fact that can- 
dles are allowed to cool with their 
tops downwards, so that, while cool- 
ing, the arsenious acid would by its 
weight, for it is heavy, sink down to 
the lower part of the candl^mould. 
From tliis irregularity of the mixture in 
one candle, it may fairly be concluded 
that there might be an irregularity in 
the composition of the mixture of 
which the candies are made, and thus 
a large quantity of arsenic might be 
collected in any one particular candle, 
and 80 very dangerous consequences 
might ensue. !Next to arsenic, the 
chemist usually considers antimony, 
from the analogies which exist between 
them ; but the toxicologist, regarding 
poisons from their action on the body, 
places mercury next in succession. 
The salt of mercury, which most com- 
monly produces poisoaous effects, is 
called corrosive sublimate — it destroys 
the membranes with which it comes in 
contact, corroding them rapidly. When 
applied to the skin of the body in 
atrong solution, it destroys it, and 
causes it to peel off. This substance 
ia eminently a corrosive poison ; no 
sooner has it been swallowed, than its 

effects are felt, even before it bas 
passed into the stomach, its pecu- 
liar metallic (styptic) taste being easi- 
ly recognized. The vapor of 'cor- 
rosive sublimate is exceedingly irri- 
tating to the mucous surfaces, aad 
afler it has been once smelt, it is not 
easy to forget its odor. Corrosive 
sublimate, or as it is called by chem- 
ists, mercuric chloride, is a white crys- 
talline substance ; it is heavy, and so 
great is its weight, that it serves to 
distinguish it from other crystalhiie 
substances used in medicine. It is 
formed by the direct union of mercury 
and chlorine gas, and the relative pro- 
portions in which these elements unite 
to form it, are 200 parts of mercury, 
by weight, to 71 of chlorine. It is 
usually made by heating mercuric sul- 
phate with common salt ; 296 parts, 
by weight, of the former, with 117 
parts of the latter. Sodic sulphate is 
formed, and mercuric chloride passes 
over in the state of vapor, and is 
condensed. Corrosive sublimate if 
very soluble in water, but more so in 
ether. When a solution of it in water 
is shaken up with ether, the ether 
takes the corrosive sublimate from the 
water, and being lighter than water, 
it floats on its surface. This property 
is made useful, as will be afterwards 
seen, in the description of the an- 
alysis for mercury. Common salt as- 
sists its solution in water, and this is 
also a matter of importance, as salt, 
being used as an article of food, is 
often present in considerable quaa- 
tities in the stomach. It is more sol- 
uble in alcohol than in water, and ia 
boiling than in cold water. It is 
usually seen in the form of a white 
powder, oflen containing fragments of 
crystals. K this powder be gently 
heated in a reduction tube, it wholly 
volatilizes and again deposits on the 
cool part of the tube. The crys- 
talline forms which it assumes are 
very beautiful. If the reduction tube 
be very small, about one inch long 
and a quarter of an inch wide, it is easy 
to sublime it, aod collect it on a glass 
slide for microscopical observation. 

The crystals are needle-shaped, in- 
termixed, with beautiful stellate forms. 



It will bo necessary to recur to these 
various crystalline forms when treats 
ing of the analysis for mercury. Cor- 
rosive sublimate is used in medicine, 
but in very small doses, in scaly dis- 
seases of the skin, and as an alterative 
in certain chronic diseases. It is also 
applied externally in the forms of lo- 
tions and gargles, to diseased mucous 
surfaces, and sometimes in ointments 
in chronic skin diseases. When taken 
in poisonous doses, it acts as a very 
powerful irritant, causing a burning 
pain in the epigastrium (the region 
over the stomach), vomiting and purg- 
ing. These symptoms come on almost 
as soon as the poison has been swal- 
lowed ; the throat appears to be stop- 
ped up, or coQstricted ; the styptic taste 
before alluded to, is at once perceived, 
and resembles the sensation produced 
by sucking a penny. The throat be- 
comes tender, and pain is increased 
by pressure. The rapidity with which 
the throat symptoms come on is so 
great, that persons have been warned 
in time, while in the act of swallow- 
ing, and have ceased to drink the fatal 
poison. With corrosive sublimate, 
the throat symptoms are much more 
marked than in arsenic poisoning, that 
is, if the solution be not .too largely di- 
lated. Occasionally death has occurred 
without the poison passing into the 
stomach. A young woman who tried 
to swallow two drachms of corrosive 
sublimate, in tiK solid state, was un- 
able to force it down on account of the 
constriction of the gullet. She died 
in six days, of mortification of the 
throat.* The stomach symptoms are 
usually very.decided, the pain which is 
felt is increased by pressure, but in 
some cases it is absent. The matters 
brought from the stomach by vomiting 
are usually viscid and stringy, and 
contain, often, large quantities of blood. 
In this respect there is some difference 
from the effects produced by arsenic — 
corrosive sublimate, acting more as a 
corrosive and local irritant, causes 
greater discharges of blood. The 
countenance varies under the action of 
these two poisons; by arsenic it is 

• Case related by Dr. J. Johnitone, reoorddd by 
Br. OhriaUBoii. 

sometimes caused to have a ghastly 
and contracted appearance, but with 
corrosive sublimate it is swollen and 
flushed ; in this respect, however, there 
are differences in different cases, for 
some have a pale and anxious look. 
The pulse is always quick, sometimes 
it is full ; in others it is small, as it 
varies with the condition of the pa- 
tient, for he may be either in a state 
of fever or of collapse. 

Death usually occurs by syncope, 
i. e., in a fit of fainting : it may be 
preceded by convulsions, or may take 
place in a fit of them. Diarrhoea is 
generally very profuse ; but other ex- 
cretions are generally suppressed. 
Corrosive sublimate seems to affect 
the nervous system more than arsenic 
during the inflammatory stage ; the ten- 
dency to drowsiness is greater, tremors 
and twitchings of the extremities are 
more marked and frequent. There is 
more stupor, sometimes absolute coma, 
and sometimes paralysis of the lower 
half of the body. 

The quantity of corrosive sublihiate 
necessary to cause death is not easily 
ascertained. A child has been killed 
by three grains, and recovery has taken 
place afler as much as half an ounce 
has been swallowed. The time in 
which the poison causes death is also 
very uncertain ; it varies from two 
hours and a half to eleven days. It 
must be remembered that corrosive 
sublimate is much more soluble than 
arsenious acid, that its effects manifest 
themselves earlier, and that from its 
solubility it may be more easily got 
out of the body. Arsenious acid has 
been found adhering to the coats of 
the stomach after several days, and 
even encysted by the mucous secretion 
of the stomach. 

Again, soluble mercury salts form 
compounds with certain organic sub- 
stances which they meet with in the 
stomach, and these compounds are not 
dissolved, and therefore remain harm- 
less until they are got rid of. For these 
reasons large doses may be taken 
whose effects may be modified, and so 
it is hardly fair to say that such a 
quantity as half an ounce can be taken 
I without fatal results. A strong girl 



swallowed, soon after supper, a drachm 
of corrosive sublimate, dissolved in 
beer. In a few minutes she was 
found on her knees in great torture. 
All the primary symptoms of this 
kind of poisoning were present in their 
most violent form ; burning in the 
stomach, extending towards the throat 
and mouth, followed in a short time 
by vomiting of mucous, and then of 
biHoas and bloody matters. The usual 
phenomena attending the excretions 
were observed. The pulse was small 
and contracted, the counteuance anx- 
ious, and stupor considerable, which 
was interrupted by fits of increased 
pain. Subsequently the pain in the 
stomach became much easier, but that 
in the throat worse. At length, in the 
course of the second day, a profuse 
discharge of saliva took place, the 
gums became spongy and tender, and 
the patient died on the fourth day. In 
this case no doubt the food taken mod- 
ified the action of the poison on the stom- 
ach, and death seems to have resulted 
firom salivation, which is usually con- 
sidered to be a secondary eflfect of 
mercurial poisoning. As to the time 
in which death may occur. Dr. Taylor 
relates a case of a man aged thirty, 
who was found dead. He had vomited 
some half-digested food. Near him 
was a drinking-horn containing about 
three drachms of corrosive sublimate. 
It was ascertained at the inquest that 
he had died from the efiects of this 
poison. The man was last seen alive 
at half-past eleven the preceding eve- 
ning, and was found dead at seven in 
the morning. His extremities were 
cold, and it was inferred that he could 
Dot have been dead less than six hours. 
This would make the duration of life 
only two hours after taking the poison. 
Mercurial salts, when taken in large 
doses, or in small continuous doses, 
generally produce what is called sali- 
vation, the teeth become loose, the 
gums spongy and tender, the breath 
foetid (having an odor peculiar to this 
aftection), and the saliva flows freely. 
All persons are not liable to it. Some 
seem to resist the action of mercury 
altogether in this respect, others are 
'affected by exceedingly small doses ; 

and between these two extremes there 
are great variations in the effects pro- 
duced by mercury compounds. Sali- 
vation may in its more severe forms 
produce most alarming symptoms. 
The face swells, the eyes are closed, 
the tongue may swell so as almost to 
produce sufibcation, ulceration of the 
throat may occur; exfoliation of the 
bones, and gangrene and death may 
ensue from this secondary action of 
mercury. Now, inasmuch as some 
persons are more easily acted upon by 
mercury than others, it is clear that if 
a small dose of a mercurial salt can 
produce salivation, and salivation may 
cause death, a small dose may cause 
death in this way. And here great 
difficulties often arise in medico-legal 

Children's Parties. — Children's 
parties are among the many peculiar- 
ities of our present social life. Doubts 
less children have always more or less 
had their parties. They assemble in the 
evening, and stay well on towards 
midnight. We shall leave to others the 
consideration of the moral consequences 
to the juvenile mind of this early ac- 
quaintance with all the forms of fash- 
ionable society, and shall confine our- 
selves to a consideration of the physical 
consequences, which we take to be 
injurious and undesirable. Children 
are excited beforehand, and still more 
at the time. They are dressed insuf- 
ficiently, they dance themselves into 
great fatigue, they eat and drink at late 
evening hours what would try their 
digestion badly enough in its midday 
vigor, and worst df all, they lose from 
two to six hours' sleep.* The ulterior 
consequences of this entire disarrange- 
ment of their habits and their fimctions 
are paleness, languor, and the develop- 
ment of various other ailments, accord- 
ing to the constitutional peculiarities of 
the children. By all means let children 
have their own gatherings, but let them 
be within reasonable hours. Let food 
be simple, dress sufiJcient and warm, 
and, above all, let not the precious hours 
of sleep be curtailed just when, by 
reason of excitement and exhaustion, 
they need to be extended. 






MANY people have doubtless been 
impressed with the idea that, not- 
withstanding the thousands of years of 
ligliting, of argument, of teaching, of 
art, of thought, of literature, and of ex- 
perience, the human family is in reality 
not much more intelligent, not much 
better or worse than it was thousands 
of years ago. Wandering through the 
libraries of civilized countries, the ques- 
tion naturally arises. How is it possible 
that, with so much thought and ingenu- 
ity, there is really so little common 
sense in men? Is it want of brain? 
Were we to take the brain of Shakes- 
peare and that of the fashionable idiot, 
and place them together, we may safely 
challenge the anatomist to distinguish 
them. If, then, it is not the mass by 
which they are, or may be distinguished, 
it must be the construction. In this di- 
Action the busiest thinker was, in all 
probability, Blumenbach, whose collec- 
tion of skulls in the Physiological Insti- 
tute of Gottingen, continues to elicit the 
admiration of the student. Phrenology 
was one of the outgro^vths of this study. 
But since anatomy has shown that the 
form of the brain has no direct connec- 
tion with that of the skull, and that it 
is isolated in its cavity as the compass is 
isolated from the motion of the ship, — 
phrenology may bo regarded not only as 
an exploded idea, but as a plaything for 
children, charlatans, hobbyists and fools. 

How is it that one man is a genius, 
and another a fool ? Why is the son 
of a thinker a fool, and the son of a sim- 
pleton a thinker? Why is not every- 
body a thinker, when all have the same 
brains and where all have the same edu- 
cation? The difficulty of answering 
these questions is more apparent than 
real. But we must go back to the ear- 
liest childhood. 

In the February number of this jour- 
nal, an interesting sketch of the anatomy 
of the brain was given for the benefit 
of the general reader. In this article 
we propose to present some features rel- 
ative to the development of the brain. 

The Development of the Brain compared 
to tJiat of a City, 

The brain, like the liver, lung, kid- 
ney, etc., is a gland consisting of cells. 
Before a child has breathed, its brain 
is an inactive mass, — the same as the 
lungs or kidneys. Although the brain 
cells are ready for action at a moment's 
notice, there is, previous to the first act 
of breathing, no use for them. It is 
the absorbed oxygen which awakes the 
brain cells out of their slumber. The 
development of the brain, so far as our 
present purpose is concerned, may be 
compared to that of a city. Every city, 
we may suppose, had its beginning witli 
a single house ; with the erection of 
more houses, streets became formed ; 
then came whole blocks of houses, and 
finally whole city quarters, with large 
and small streets, giving squares, alleys, 
etc., etc. The development of the brain 
also begins with one cell. We have 
five roads by which intelligence from 
outside is communicated to the brain. 
These are the five senses. They act 
upon us in the following order and im- 
portance: 1, feeling; 2, hearing; 3, 
sight ; 4, smell ; 5, taste. Any sensa- 
tion which by means of these five ve- 
hicles is communicated to the brain, 
leaves an impression therein. The first 
impression is that of feeling, the next 
that of sound. The connection of the 
two impressions form the first idea a 
brain ever conceives. Next comes 
light ; the senses of smell and of taste 
are of inferior importance. The dif- 
ferent impressions of feeling, sound, 
light, etc., leave different pictures or 
marks in the respective cells, the con- 
nection of which gives the child the 
first comprehension of consciousness of 
existence. The repetition of already- 
received impressions produces the first 
reflective idea in the brain. As more 
new impressions are received and others 
are repeated, they are stored up for fu- 
ture use, — memory. The connection 
of Btored-up impressions with newly- 



received and reflected ones, brings about 
what is known as attention. Connec- 
tions of impressions formed without at- 
tention, is called imagination; if con- 
sciousness is disconnected from it, we 
Baj we dream. 

We have already, as you perceive, 
made some progress in our little brain 
city. We have houses with people in 
them (brain cells with impressions) ; 
we have streets to connect these houses 
and people (thought chains) ; and we 
have some blocks of buildings (thought, 
consciousness, reflection, memory, at- 
tention, etc.) ; but our streets have no 
sidewalks, and are not paved ; the va- 
rious branches of industry and com- 
merce are almost entirely unknown ; 
and the houses remain in their primi- 
tive plainness, without paper upon their 
walls or paint upon their woodwork. 
The houses of this embryo city must be 
made to look more uniform and at- 
tractive ; the accidentally-formed streets 
must be straightened, widened, and 
paved; the blocks must be properly 
shaped and harmoniously arranged ; we 
most have engineers and architects (am- 
bition and will) ; we must look around, 
travel, and give attention to the arrange- 
ment of larger cities (comparison), and 
by personal contact and intercourse, 
hosts of other travellers (outside and 
foreign ideas) will find their way into 
our city and make it their permanent 
home. We must, also, have a properly- 
constituted and central government, hav- 
ing jurisdiction over every part of the 
city (judgment). At this point we re- 
view our production. We inspect the 
houses with their inmates, the streets, 
the walks, the alleys, the squares, and, 
if we find all harmoniously working to- 
gether without collision, without ob- 
structions and breakdowns — if we find 
that any traveller can hurry through 
our city without hindrance, and without 
bringing or giving annoyance, we rest 
awhile, and say now we have common 

But our city has as yet afibrded no 
luxuries. There is no picture-gallery, 
opera, statues of Greece or ancient 
Borne, or library, within its limits. 
There are no railroads and telegraphs 
togdistant countries. The surroundings 

of the city are not surveyed and laid 
out, and the back country is only a 
primitive and imdeveloped forest of 
darkness. These wants of our city are 
becoming iu*gent, and something must 
be done to meet them, though difilcul- 
ties oppose themselves at every point, 
and in every direction. In some places 
our pavement was not strong enough ; 
a heavy load broke it down, and it must 
be relaid. The people, though very 
clever, are obstinate about uniting in 
action. Some good-for-nothing vaga- 
bonds are also detected, who have to be 
expelled; while others, known to be 
useful and now wanted, must be im* 
ported. In the processes of develop- 
ment and improvement, factories and 
laboratories are erected and put in op- 
eration, the productions of which are 
large and various, but not good enough 
for the market; they will not sell. 
There is, however, no yielding to these 
discouragements, but trial after trial is 
made, until success is finally achieved. 
Success, however, brings with it no ces- 
sation of labor or reh^tion of eflbft, 
until all the things of which other cities 
boast, are produced in our own. At^ 
tention must also be given to the sur- 
roundings ; they must be laid out, — the 
swamps dramed and fiUed up, — mines 
opened and worked, — and the various 
sources of wealth developed. 

However strange the comparison of 
the brain to a city may seem, there is a 
striking similarity between them. Some 
very large cities have but one street, 
where everything concentrates, while 
the others are dirty, filthy avenues. 
Some brains have one brilliant thought^ 
chain, where ever3^hing of the man's 
brilliancy concentrates, while all the 
rest is as filthy as some parts of New 
York. Some large cities have one busy 
street, while grass grows in the others ; 
some brains fiddle constantly back and 
forth upon one string (idea), the rest of 
the brain being useless from fatty degen- 
eration. Some cities produce but very 
little, and make a great display of fiiss 
and noise if even a two-horse team is 
seen in their streets ; so to some brains 
the Boston Common appears as the uni- 
verse, and they themselves as the hub 
of it, while in reality they cannot see 



daylight, tliough the sun shines directly 
upon their nose. The greater mass of 
cities throujrhout the world are of no 
consequence whatever, save to their in- 
habitants, and so it is with most of 
brains ; they are of no value to any- 
body, save to the owner, — who him- 
self is barely conscious of possessing 
such an article. Some cities at first 
appear very fine, but soon tire one to 
death with their sameness ; is it not the 
same with many brains? From the 
appearance of a city it is not difficult 
to judge correctly relative to the brains 
of its inhabitants. Crooked streets and 
small houses are sure to be inhabited 
by crooked and small ideas. For ex- 
ample, look at London, Paris, Berlin, 
Vienna, New York, Boston, and Phil- 
adelphia, and see if there is not a strik- 
ing resemblance between those cities 
and the brains of their inhabitants. 

Imjproper Treatment of Children in 
Thought' Culture, 


• "When a child is born its brain is not 
protected by nature, and is flexible, like 
soft wax. It, however, soon becomes 
safely enclosed, and is constantly con- 
structing itself. Whoever has watched 
the development of a child's intellect, 
will have noticed how it tried to con- 
nect impressions received. Nothing 
can be more important than to help the 
child to form the thought-chains tuelL 
The foundation of the intellectual 
power of the child is laid in its infancy, 
just as surely as are the foundations 
of a city. But in what way are chil- 
dren generally treated ? 

Every mother knows that a plants if 
it is ever to be developed according to 
the laws of its nature, requires rest. 
If you take her favorite flower-pot and 
shake and tumble it every day, she 
will raise strong and serious objec- 
tions to such a course of procedure. 
But if you do the same thing with her 
baby, she is pleased ; though by such 
shaking and tumbling you might con- 
ftise and break the already formed 
thought-chains, leaving them in ruins 
like a city after an earthquake. In 
fact, what child has not been tossed or 
rocked until stupefied to sleep? And 

when the poor victim made objec- 
tions by crying, it was only shaken the 

Let any person be put into a swing, 
and kept there but half an hour in 
constant motion, it will not only pro- 
duce dizziness, but total unfitness for 
the process of thinking. Let me ask 
any common-sense being if there is a 
more stupefying and senseless manipu- 
lation than this perpetual shaking back 
and forth, up and down? Tiien comes 
the paregoric and the soothing syrups! 
No woman would give them to her 
dog, but her much-loved baby muht 
take them. The very best born child is 
thus prepared for the semi-intellectual 
incapacity which we see every-wher^ 

" Twenty-seven millions, — mostly 
fools," — says Carlyle, in speaking of 
the inhabitants of Great Britain ; and 
the same remark might be applied with 
equal force to this country. Among 
the various causes which produce the 
difficulty of comprehension so widely 
noticed in children,' there is none more 
prominent or effective than this shak- 
ing of babies, — this continued sear 
sickness produced by a practice worthy 
of having its origin in the lower 

But, unfortunately, the difficulty 
does not stop here. After the child 
has grown a little older, it is not un- 
frequently trained after the manner of 
a poodle-dog for an exhibition ; and 
the parents are delighted when they 
have taught their offspring a littlfc 
trick, which the poor child is required 
to perform on all occasions. Is it not 
the smartest baby you ever saw, Doc- 
tor? asks the loving mother. And is 
there a man who dare say No ? In- 
stead of letting the child sit and creep 
upon the floor, learning distances, 
forms and colors from the dancing 
sunbeam upon the carpet, and Jisten- 
ing quietly to the sounds mother nature 
and other circumstances provide, it is 
dressed up like a doll or show-babyi 
carried to the photographer, under the 
pretext of securing the likeness of the 
dear little one, — to various other 
places for like reasons, — and is kept 
in constant handling, for fear of soiling 
its clothes. 



Instead of teaching the child to ex- 
ercise its reason ia reference to its 
strength, and learning it to profit by its 
fJEdlnres, from the bump on the nose to 
the burning on the stove or in the 
flame of the gas or lamp, it is put into 
a carriage, strapped down to prevent 
its tumbling out, and rattled up and 
down the sidewalk or street by some 
careless and irresponsible person. 

Watch a cat instructing her kittens I 
Every mother might learn something 

As the child advances, it is forbid- 
den to reason freely, or discouraged in 
the attempt, and checked through fear 
of the black man, ghost, or some other 
nonsense, which leaves its mark in the 
brain, nevertheless. 

The innocent and reasonable in- 
quiries, — very often, it may be, above 
the intellectual capacity of the parent, 

— are answered by illogical, senseless 
twaddle, altogether incomprehensible 
to the child, and further questioning 
absolutely forbidden. Then it is not 
tmfrequently prevented (and often im- 
wisely) from selecting its own com- 
pany, and thus acquire judgment, 
under the assumption that it might be 
spoiled by the neighbors' children ; — 
ia reality, because Mrs. A said some- 
tldng of Mrs. B's children, which Mrs. 
£ thought was true of Mrs. A's. 

Is the parent a fool ? — the child is 
taught to speak and act foolishly, to 
suit the parent. Is the parent no fool ? 

— the child is left in the hands of ser- 
vants, or others, instead of being 
allowed to acquire reason according to 
instinct, inclinations and circumstances. 

The School. 

When six years old, the child is sent 
to school to learn to spell ; and how ? 
Without comprehending even the pur- 
pose of a language, the child is made 
to spell like a machine. To hear a 
sdiool go through this thoughtless 
spelling, and to witness such training, 
is revolting to common sense. The 
whole, and more, of what a child can 
learn in the common schools during 
eight or ten years, it could comprehend, 
if properly taught, in six months^ at the 

age of twelve, provided that the com- 
mon sense has not already been shaken 
out of it. Learning without compre" 
hensionj is the very foundation of stU' 
pidity. Between reason and learning 
there is a vast difference. 

Take the greater mass of students at 
college. One is a Greek scholar ; an- 
other a Latin scholar ; a third knows 
Shakespeare by heart, and any of the 
poets at short notice ; a fourth plays 
chess blindfolded; a fifth can row a 
boat from the first of January to 
Christmas ; a sixth is so full of elo- 
quence, that he resembles a Niagara 
of learning, ready to drown a commu- 
nity ; almost every one has a hobby of 
learning, which he is ready to exhibit 
as he did hb show-tricks when a baby. 
But as for common sense and inde- 
pendent reasoning, — " mostly fools " I 

Sometimes it seems as though learn- 
ing and common sense excluded each 
other in men's brains. The truth is, 
that learning in a primitively confused 
'and illogical brain, is like fine Havana 
cigars planted in the garden. A brain 
which has been built up crooked, can 
no more be mended or straightened 
than London can be differently shaped 
now. A brain with confused thought- 
chains is an illogical, and a brain with 
correctly organized thought-chains a 
logical brain. It is impossible for a 
logical brain to think illogically, and 
it is just as impossible for an illogical 
brain to think or reason logically. Jn 
this fact lies the misery of the world. 
With our present knowledge, it is no 
more difficult for us to lay the founda- 
tions for logical thinking in infancy, 
than it is to lay out cities in such man- 
ner that no future costly changes of 
house-raising and street-widening will 
be required. The basis for a logical 
brain is laid in the earliest childhood ; 
if neglected, no power on earth can 
rectify it. No learning, no teacher or 
teachers can reform an already spoiled 
brain. The fact that the intellect of the 
small baby is not cultivated in a man- 
ner similar to that of the gardener who 
cultivates the young sprout of a costly 
plant, and that, on the contrary, its 
primitive thought-chains are either 
confused or broken by injudicious 



treatment, and also, that genius and 
talent are believed to be bom with the 
child, which may be developed at any 
time, at school or elsewhere, constitute 
the simple reasons why millions of 
civilized beings (as Carlyle expresses 
it) are " mostly fools." 

Ml Children have Similar Powers of 

That all children (with few excep- 
tions) are bom with a similar or like 
genius and talent, and have like powers 
of development, notwithstanding the ap" 
parent differences in the same family, 
can be anatomically demonstrated. 

The children of the rich almost always 
lack brilliancy of reason, and why ? Be- 
cause they were, when babies, brought 
up not like men, but like parrots. If 
we look at all the great thinkers of the 
present or the past, we shall find that 
not one of them was especially bom, or 
intended as such. Their good luck or 
misery (as the case may be, — for it is 
not always lucky to reason correctly, and 
to think logically ; for if one logically- 
thinking man bo put among a multitude 
of fools, he is miserable, not the fools) ^ 
lies in their earliest childhood. Their 
wit was not shaken out of them when 
in the cradle. They grew up by mother 
nature ; they were taught by her more 
than by ignorant servants or nurses, 
and spoiled mothers. They were none 
of your show-babies, for in many in- 
stances loant was one of their nurses. 
It is in the hand of every mother to pro- 
duce talent and genius in her children ; 
but she must forever discard the silly, 
absurd, and criminal practices of baby- 
tossing, baby-drugging, baby exhibi- 
tions, and parrot-teaching, and not try 
to improve nature's laws. It is a won- 
der that any common sense is Icfl in 
the world after children have run thg 
gauntlet of a year's sea-sickness from 
rocking and tossings ; of paregoric and 
soothing-syrups ; of the photographer 
and the baby-show ; of vaccination, the 
measles, and scarlet fever ; of allopar 
thic, homoeopathic, and eclectic drug- 
stores, with half-a-dozen M.Ds. ; of 
the spelling-school and college, with 
Latin and Greek; of the poets, ro- 
manceSi newspapers and periodicals; 

of the various sensations and fashions, 
and of the diverse religious influences 
by which they are surrounded, etc., 
etc. Need we wonder that millions 
are " mostly fools " ? I am sure that 
Shakespeare was never rocked to sleep, 
— to chronic idiocy. K you wish to 
produce Shakespearesfrom your babies, 
treat them as you do your favorite 
plant. Would you water your plant 
more than necessary ? Would you shake 
it up twenty times a day, until it col- 
lapses? Would you put gold-dust in 
the pot, or simply good earth? Would 
you pour paregoric on it when it does 
not grow in winter, for want of sun? 
Did you ever bring a plant to bear 
flowers by constantly doctoring it? 
Use your conmion sense more than 
doctoring, with your babies, — your 
reason more than nursing and over- 
feeding ; throw your patent cradle away, 
and let no one shake your child until 
stupefied to sleep. Give your child 
quiet and rest, for the development of 
thought, as you would wish to be let 
alone yourself when trying to think 
and to write. When your child begins 
to reason, treat it like a human, intel- 
ligent being, and not like a parrot, — 
a plaything, — a slave of your fancy. 
Remember the child belongs to the 
world, and not to your selfish pleasure. 

Keeping Fruit in our Booms. — 
We should be chary of keeping ripe 
fruit in our sitting-rooms, and especially 
beware of laying it about a sick-cham- 
ber for any length of time. That com- 
plaint which some people make about a 
faint sensation in the presence of firuit 
is not fanciful; they may be really 
affected by it. For two continental 
chemists have shown that, from the 
moment of plucking, apples, cherries, 
currants, and other fruits, are subject 
to incessant transformation. At first 
they absorb oxygen, thus robbing the 
surrounding air of its vital clement: 
then they evolve carbonic acid, and this 
in far greater volume than the purer 
gas is absorbed, so that we have poison 
given us in the place of pure air, with 
compound interest. Temperature af- 
fects the rate of change, warmth accel- 
erating it* 




THOUGH neither John S. Mill nor 
Miss Becker has claimed the use 
of this drug as one of woman's privi- 
leges, jet the last few years having 
been an era in the history of woman's 
social status as well as an era in the 
history of tobacco, a woman claims 
not only to write upon the subject, but, 
from the very fact that she has no 
practical experience to guide her pen, 
she also claims the indulgence of the 
reader. For if these tobacco glean- 
ings prove superficial — suggestive 
rather than conclusive — they have at 
least been carefully culled, and honestly 
and impartially arranged. 

The use of narcotic drugs to lull the 
senses, and to dispel those fits of des- 
pondency to which man in all parts 
of the world is subject, would appear 
to be of great antiquity. 

If we except the nepenthe of the 
ancient poets, to Indian hemp ( Can- 
abis Saliva) may, perhaps, be traced 
the earliest record of this species of 
indulgence, though some writers sup- 
pose that tobacco itself was not un- 
known in pre-historic times. Herod- 
otus describes the Scythians as burn- 
ing Indian hemp on hot stones, under 
a tightly closed tent of woollen felt or 
fleece, and inhaling the fumes until 
they became " transported with de- 
light," or, as another translator has it, 
until they '* howled aloud for joy." The 
Chinese claim to have been smokers 
for many ages. Meyeu, a traveller in 
China, speaks of sculptures on which 
he observed the same kind of pipe as 
that now in use ; but the precise age 
of these monuments is not proved, 
and the pipes may have been used for 
opium smoking. However inseparable 
from the eastern picture of our day 
are the narghile, the hooka, and the 
chibouk, their seems to be no well au- 
thenticated evidence, either from ori- 
ental writings or from ancient monu- 
ments, that any instrument answering 
the purpose of a pipe was in use among 
the ancients. How long smoking had 

prevailed in the new world when it was 
discovered, we have no means of as- 
certaining. Wilson affirms that " the 
practice of smoking and burning the 
leaves of the tobacco plant, reveals 
itself among the remotest traces of 
human arts in the new world ; " and 
that nothing more clearly proves its 
antiquity than the ^^ totally distinct and 
diverse names by which the various 
tribes designated it." While in the 
eastern hemisphere tobacco is used 
merely as an indulgence, among the 
aborigines of the new world the pipe 
was held in religious reverence, and 
was " intimately interwoven with their 
rites and superstitions," and prob- 
ably " filled the place of the golden 
censer in the gorgeous rites of pagan 
and Christian worship." The vast 
numbers of relics of elaborately carved 
pipes found about the ancient altars 
are strongly suggestive of the sacred 
significance of tobacco smoking, even 
perhaps its origin. Under thd Mo- 
saic dispensation, the burning of in- 
cense in expiatory sacrifices bears some 
analogy to the propitiatory pipe of the 
Indian tribes ; and as ethnologists have 
traced the Mongolian type in the Aztecs 
and other extinct races of America, it 
seems not unreasonable to assume that 
this peculiar feature in religious cere- 
monials may have had one common 

Prescott also mentions the univer- 
' sality of the sacred pipe among the 
Indian tribes from the extreme north- 
west to Patagonia ; and it has been 
well authenticated that the Aztecs as- 
tonished the Spaniards by their use of 
tobacco, smoking cigars and highly 
embellished pipes, and taking snuff 
afler the fashion of modern times. 
Columbus also found the Cubans with 
" rolls of dried herbs in their mouths," 
and was ^^ astonished as well as dis- 
gusted " to see the aborigines inhaling 
tobacco smoke through their nostrils 
from a forked pipe in the form of the 
letter Y, '' until they fell to the ground 



insensible." The name of this instru- 
ment was called a tabacosj the same as 
that applied to the sheath of maize or 
envelope in which the Caribbeans 
wrapped the weed : hence most prob- 
ably, its European name, tobacco ; 
though others are of the opinion that 
it was called after the island of Toba- 
go, where Columbus first found it, or 
from Tabaco, or Tabasco, in Utacan, 
where the Spaniards first used it. 

Whether the present use of tobacco 
can be traced beyond the fourteenth or 
fifteenth centuries or not, it certainly 
now prevails iu every habitable part 
of the globe ; and where tobacco is 
not easily attained, a substitute has 
been found. Thus the Peruvian In- 
dians chew the coca leaf, and attach to 
it the same religious reverence which 
the northern tribes do to tobacco. In 
Malacca, Cochin China, and some of 
the East Indian islands, the Fonang or 
betel-nut is in such general use for 
chewing that a box to contain it is an 
essential article of furniture, and a 
case for it slung to the belt is a com- 
mon appendage to the dress ; as in 
China, where all classes and both sexes 
smokcf a silken pocket to contain the 
pipe aud tobacco is an ordinary arti* 
cle of dress among young girls. In 
many parts of Central and South 
America, as well as in Oriental coun- 
tries, smoking is common with both 
sexes from an early age. In the Phil- 
lipines, preparations called siri^ ganga^ 
etc., etc., and buyo^ are chewed by 
man, woman, and child. Every one 
carries a case of buyos in his pocket, 
and ofiers one to the stranger ; as in 
Manilla, they offer a cigar. The buyo is 
made of the betel-nut, or of a root hav- 
ing the same properties, pulverized 
with a sea shell containing a strong 
alkali, dried in the sun and then rolled 
in a buyo leaf, cheroot fashion. In 
some of the islands the betel-nut, 
sprinkled with chunam or shell lime, 
and wrapped in a leaf of the red 
pepper plant, is chewed in the same 
manner. The alkali is to correct the 
acidity of the nut, and the red pepper 
leaf counteracts the impoverishing 
effect upon the blood. The betel-nut 
tree has been naturalized in Jamaica, 

where its properties for chewing are 
in growing esteem. The modem 
Arabs not only smoke Indian hemp 
under the name of haschische^ but 
chew the betel-nut and a plant called 
had. There is also a plant called 
gunchoj which is grown abundantly for 
consumption in Siam, and which pos- 
sesses many of the intoxicating prop- 
erties of opium. When smoked, its 
effects are at first exhilarating, and 
followed after three or four hours by a 
deep sleep, ultimately producing dis- 
eases similar to those created by the 
inordinate use of opium ; of which, 
independently of the guncha, there is 
in Siam an amount to the value of 
£150,000 sterling annually consumed. 
So impossible was it found to arrest 
the evil of opium smoking, that in 
spite of the King of Slam's decree, in 
1839, the drug has since been legalized 
and its growth permitted. From the 
flowery and magniloquent decree al- 
luded to, one concludes that '^ His most 
gracious and sublime Majesty, the King 
of Angelic Siam," was himself proof 
against the fascinations of smoking; 
for '^ from the time that his Majesty 
ascended peacefully, to rule the king- 
dom, • • • • he, being endowed 
with very much sublime and exalted 
compassion," . . . did " perceive 
that opium was a thorn in the bosom 
of the divine religion of Budda and of 
the angelic country." Therefore the 
King — the God Budda being at the 
head — did "with solicitude exercise 
his divine mind to silence and cut off 
opium ; " and having " graciously con- 
descended to the tuft of hair of the 
head with grace to the head," com- 
manded the royal servants to clear 
away the opium concern out of the 
exalted and angelic cities, . . . 
and inflict punishments on all who," 
etc., etc., ... so that ''opium, 
being all gone, the thorn in the bosom 
of the land will have been removed 
entirely ; " and so forth, and so forth, 
to the extent of several pages. A 
similar effort to check the use of opium 
was made in China, but so ineffectu- 
ally that the cultivation has been since 
permitted ; and, to the lamentable dis- 
placement of grain crops, carried out 



to a minons extent. Thunberg, in 
1771, found the Hottentots cultivating 
hemp especially for smoking, thej find- 
ing tobacco not sufficiently strong, and 
therefore mixing with it hemp-seed 
chopped very fine. 

Ooe of the most fearful conse- 
quences of the immoderate use of 
hemp-seed and opium is a peculiar 
^cies of madness, called, in Borneo 
and the East, ainoh. It is an uncon- 
trollable and passionate frenzy, simi- 
lar to delirum tremens. The vic- 
tim to this rash indulgence becomes a 
terror to the community. He rushes 
frantically at w^homever he meets, 
brandishing a weapon, and shouting, 
Amok! ^mojfc/— ('TU kill you! 
m kill you 1 " ) Men, women and 
children fiee in all directions as from 
an enraged tiger, until, in self-de- 
fence, the madman is shot down like a 
a wild animal. The common expres- 
sion among sailors, " running a-muck," 
is derived from the reckless furious- 
ness of this amok madness. 

It is remarkable that, however rig- 
orously the smokers and snuff-takers 
of the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- 
turies were dealt with, tobacco owes 
its first introduction into Europe to its 
reputed medicinal virtues. ^^ Panor 
ckcecL, divine tobacco, ** was Spencer's 
designation of it. But in spite of 
anathemas thundered at it, in spite of 
a whole battery of fines and penalties, 
and the combined eloquence of divin- 
ity, law, and physic hurled against 
tobacco, smokers have not only puffed 
away defiantly, but Nicotiana has won 
votaries exceeding those to be num- 
bered at any shrine in the history of 
the human race — and this within a 
period of about 300 years. Let us 
follow her introduction and reception 
in the Eastern Hemisphere. 

In 15 GO, Jean Nicot, an agent of 
Francis I. of France to the Portugese 
settlements of the new world, procured 
some seed from Florida, and presented 
it to the Queen. Through the French 
court tobacco became known through- 
out the Peninsula ; a manufactory at 
Seville early establishing the reputa- 
tion of Spanish snuff — for in this 
form tobacco was at first chiefly used. 

Snuff-taking grew to be so fashionable 
an indulgence, and its accompaniment 
— sneezing — so inharmonious in the 
services of the sanctuary, that Pope 
Urban VIII. was compelled to issue a 
bull excommunicating all those who 
should take snuff in church. In Eng- 
land, tobacco smoking having mean- 
while been introduced by the popular 
favorite. Sir Walter Raleigh (who 
used to sit at the door of the " Pied Bull 
Inn," Islington, and at a goldsmith's 
shop, in London, and smoke " the 
newly-introduced weed,'* to the great 
astonishment of the passers-by), it 
was reckoned the fashionable thing 
among the wealthy ; and, during Eliz- 
abeth's reign, met with no great oppo- 
sition. Not so, however, in the North 
of Europe, where Christian IV., of 
Denmark, inflicted heavy fines upon 
smokers; and in Russia tlieir noses 
were cut off — the Grand Duke of 
Muscovy going so far as to hang the 
offenders. Meanwhile, tobacco was 
introduced into Africa and Persia, by 
the Portuguese, and thence, as some 
suppose, to India and China; and, 
during the first part of the seventeenth 
century, smoking became at once so 
popular throughout Southern Europe 
and the East, that the severest punish- 
ments were impotent in checking it. 
The traveller, Sandys, describes the 
habit of smoking as new to the Turks 
in 1610. They '' took it in reeds that 
have jo3nied to them great heads of 
wood to containe it." But the Turks 
could enjoy it only on the sly. " They 
took it in corners, and were glad to 
procure what the English considered 
unsaleable," the Sultan Amuret having 
decreed that all smokers and snuff- 
takers should have their noses cut off. 
The Grand Vizier had pipes thrust 
through the noses of smokers, and 
thus had them led through the streets. 
Mahomet IV. punished smoking by 
death ; the Shah of Persia had noses 
snipped and ears cropped in vain ; and 
James I. did his utmost in the way of 
fining, writing, and legislating, to re- 
strict the importation, the cultivation, 
and the use of tobacco in England. All 
tobacco crops were, by his orders, to be 
rooted up ; •' for," wrote the royal 



pedant, *^ it is less intolerable for to- 
bacco to be: imported among other 
snpei-fluities from beyond the seas, than 
that the soil of this fruitful kingdom 
should be misemplojed and abused in 
the cultivation of it." Until Virginia 
was colonized, all the tobacco imported 
was raised by the Spaniards in the 
West Indies ; and upon that James 
levied a tax of, at first, 2d. per lb., 
afterwards increasing it to 68. 10(2. 
^r lb. 

When — aV. 1616.20— the new col- 
ony of Virginia began to abandon other 
manufactures for the cultivation of to- 
bacco, James, not daring to prohibit it 
entirely, enacted that no planter should 
raise above one hundred weight p^r- 
annum ; and in the latter part of his 
reign a law was passed that England 
should be supplied soUly from the 
American colonies. Doubly hateful 
was the obnoxious pipe to this monarch 
of fastidious tastes and impoverished 
coffers. " Some of you do bestow 
£300, some £400 a year upon this prec- 
ious stink, " he protested. "Ye do 
make the filthy smoke and stink thereof 
to exhale across the dishes and infect 
the air;" for, to his infinite disgust, 
the pipe was lighted even at dinner- 
time. "The stinking fumes thereof 
do nearest resemble the horrible Stygian 
smoke of the pit that is bottomless ; " 
and a great deal more in a similar 
strain wrote the king, who, says Thomas 
Ingoldsby, Esq, — 

la qpilted doublet nnd great trunk breechos, 
Held in abborence tobacco^moke and wltchef. 

Cromwell endeavored, no less vainly, 
to check smoking, and sent his soldiers 
to search out and tread down all tobacco 
fields. Stow called it " a stinking weed 
much abused to God's dishonor, " and 
says it was indulged in by most men and 
many women ; and Evelyn testifies that 
at CromwelFs funeral — " the joyfuUest 
he ever saw " — the soldiers smoked all 
along the streets in procession. The 
Japanese fills his little pipe every five 
minutes, and even gets up in the night 
to take a few whiffs and sip his tea. 

Tobacco belongs to the nightshade 
family of plants {Solanaceos)^ all of 
which are poisonous; the deleterious 

qualities residing in the oil called nico- 
tine. Stupefaction is one of its effects ; 
thus tobacco is used to drug inferior 

In Florida the plant was called petun; 
hence our petunias, one of the tribe. 
The great authority. Dr. Asa Gray, 
and other American botanists, record 
only two indigenous species, nicotiana 
tabacumj or Virginia tobacco, and nico- 
tiana rustica^ both said to have been 
advanced from tropical America, and 
probably undergoing still further varia- 
tions from climate and cultivation ; as 
the Maryland tobacco differs from the 
Missouri species, and that, again, from 
other kinds cultivated by the Indians 
of the far west. Now Virginia tobacco 
being inferior to that grown in Cuba, 
and the nicotiana rustica of northern 
climates being inferior to the Virginian 
species, we may conclude that, as a 
general rule, tobacco deteriorates north- 
wards ; and, as there are now fifty reo- 
ognized species in various parts of the 
globe, the interesting question remains 
— Have climate and cultivation pro- 
duced these scientific distinctions since 
the naturalization of the original species 
from tropical America? or, did tobacco 
exist in Persia, Tartary, Africa, and 
the East Indies, previous to the dis- 
covery of America? 

Certain recognized and individual 
qualities in the various species render 
them of more or less marketable value, 
and are turned to practical account by 
the manufacturer. Thus the Havanna 
and Manilla tobaccos are more elastic 
and leathery, stretching immensely, and 
are in virtue of these qualities used for 
the outside covering of cigars. Dutch 
tobacco is pale — not full-flavored ; is 
more porous, or " drinky, " and in fact 
is bad enough to be used to adulterate 
the choicer kinds. In a large factory 
in the north of England, where adultera- 
ting ingredients were suspected, the 
visitor was told that " cabbage and dock 
leaves would be a luxury to that Dutch 
tobacco. " English tobacco is ntc. 
rustica^ the same as that grown in Tur- 
key, and known as Turkish tobacco; 
and nic, Persica is used for the famous 
Shirag tobacco, a mild kind much es- 
teemed in the East. 



Iq manufactoriDg, the commoner 
kinds require to be heated (half baked) 
to bring out what flavor they possess ; 
other kinds, like those from Virginia 
and Cuba, have flavor enough and to 
spare. Within a few years English 
mannfactorers have been permitted by 
Act of Parliament to use certain ingre- 
dients heretofore considered adultera- 
iioDS ia the flavoring of tobacco ; and 
among others the reader of the Tobacco 
Trade Ecview may see various wines 
and essences advertised as ^^ Patented," 
"Analyzed," such as prune wine, for 
instance, which is ^^ found to be of the 
dioicest quality of foreign wines, with 
other costly fluids among its ingredients." 
A glance at this Review will show with 
what jealousy a monopoly of such 
flavoring is secured by certain manufac- 
turers ; and with what skill they cook 
op the raw leaf in order to entice the 
e|ncnre. " We no sooner bring out a 
new cigar than it is imitated in bad 
leaf by unprincipled houses, " writes a 
victimized inventor. Then the adver- 
tisements! ^^We are now making a 
very beautiful cigarette in blue, green, 
buff, mauve, and pink satin paper, 
soperior to Vevey Fins,"— -whatever 
they may be (?) "We have a few 
haodsome boxes of bright cavendish, 
got op in American style — a capital 
•rtide for Christmas presents." " Our 
neir smoking mixture," etc. " Observe 
Ottr frade mark." Excepting the legal- 
ized flavorings, adulterations are visited 
by the hea^y penalty of £200, in spite 
of which chicory, rhubarb, coH's-foot, 
and other leaves do somehow get insin- 
uated occasionally among the choicer 
kinds of tobacco, whose excess of flavor 
might otherwise prove too potent for 
both pipe and pocket, perhaps. 

Besides the immense duty on imported 
tobacco, the merchant will tell you he 
Bostains an annually increasing waste in 
the per cerUage of stems, which he can 
only dispose of to the snufl^makers, and 
which, owing to the consumption of 
Bnuff' being less every year, become in 
proportion less and less marketable. 
The duty on unstenmied leaf is from 
Ss. 2d. to Ss. 6d. per lb., and the stems 
when detached are worth only 2s, 6d. a 
D).; consequently, to escape duty on 

VOL. II. — 3 

what may prove a dead loss, the manu* 
facturer permits the chief stems, or 
" buts " of the bunches to be chopped 
off at the custom-house before the mass 
is taxed, and these stems are burned by 
Grovernment authorities. Every cask 
undergoes rigid examination at the 
bonding warehouses, and all the injured 
or forfeited tobacco is destroyed. Strin- 
gent legislation and legal restrictions 
still hem in the tobacco trade, or the 
revenue would materially suffer. During 
the late war between Prussia and Den- 
mark, a ship-load of twelve or thirteen 
hundred tons of tobacco stems was being 
sent from Grermany to Denmark, and 
on putting in at Hull for repairs, the 
tobacco, though not intended for Eng- 
land, was seized by the revenue officers 
there (the importation of stems alone 
being prohibited in England), and the 
whole cargo was burned in a field near 
the docks. At the London docks is the 
huge kiln popularly known as ^^the 
Queen's tobacco-pipe," in which all in- 
jured, waste, or contraband tobacco and 
cigars are periodically burned. Occasion- 
ally many hundred-weights of tobacco 
and cigars, as well as other forfeited 
valuables, are here stupidly consumed, 
which had far better be sold in aid of 
some of the national charities. 

Tobacco is shipped to England packed 
in various ways — fix)m South America 
in linen bales, and from the United 
States in hogsheads, each containing an 
average often or eleven hundred weight, 
but by immense pressure so closely 
stowed that one thousand pounds is 
forced into the compass of a barrel four 
feet high and two and a half feet in 
diameter. For the convenience of un- 
packing, the barrel is sawn in two, and 
the solid mass of tobacco has to be care- 
fully separated. The contents may 
consist of entire plants in bunches, or 
of detached leaves folded and laid flat 
one upon another. You may see in a 
tobacco factory a score or more varieties 
of growth, of curing, of packing, and 
of color, and these are again diversified 
in endless whys in preparation f^ the 

In proportion to its value, no other im- 
ported article is subject to such a high 
rate of duty as tobacco ; but this, as it 



is a luxury only, and not a necessity,' 
is only fait, (At least so thioks a 
woman, who must endure but not enjoy 
tobacco.) The intrinsic value of the 
raw commodity is from 3c?. to 10c?. per 
lb. ; and of manufactured tobacco from 
3s. to 5s. per lb. ; while the duty alone 
is from 3«. to 35. 6c?. per lb. 

The duty on raw tobacco has grad- 
ually advanced since 1787, when it was 
raised from 10(2. to Is. 3c?., having re- 
mained nearly at the present rate since 
1825. The enormous sum of six mil- 
lions sterling is now added to the rev- 
enue by the duty on tobacco. Six 
millions of golden sovereigns annually I 
What a homily could be read on the 
fact that millions of human mouths 
*are hourly engaged in the stupendous 
work of producing vmoke at so vast a 

But leaving the moral to the con- 
science-struck reader, and keeping to 
facts alone, statistics prove that smok- 
ing is a steadily increasing habit — the 
annual comsumption of tobacco more 
than keeping pace with the population. 
In 1791, the quantity of tobacco con- 
sumed in England was about 9^ mil- 
lions of lbs. ; and in 1841 it was 40 
millions of lbs. ; — averaging 13 J oz. 
per head: at present the average is 
nearly 1^ lb. per head. 

This growing habit of smoking has, of 
late, given rise to much scientific contro- 
versy as to its physically injurious 
effects; but, after all is said, we are 
left to suppose that if the friends and 
foes of tobacco were ranged in oppo- 
site ranks, they would present two 
such equal and well balanced parties, 
that a drawn battle must be declared. 
To render this paper more complete, 
a few well-known authorities shall be 
impartially quoted, and the victory 
between my two moral battalions left 
to the reader. 

To youth, the entire faculty concur 
in denouncing tobacco as poaUivdy in^ 
jurious. Dr. Decaisne, in the British 
Medical Journal^ states that in twenty- 
seven out of thirty-eight boys, between 
nine and fifteen years of age, who 
smoked, he observed distinct symp- 
toms, consisting of functional disorders, 
slowness of intellecty and a taste for 

strong drinks. Facts which are again 
proved in the competitive examina- 
tions at public schools, where the hab- 
itual smokers are generally found to 
be below par. Dr. Richardson, who 
has bestowed such careful attention to 
the subject, says that ^' before full ma- 
turity of the system is attained, the 
smallest amount of smoking is hurt- 

Every species of tobacco, however 
variously prepared, possesses certain 
deleterious qualities in common. 

These are carbon, which settles on 
the membrane of the throat, and pro- 
duces what is known as ^^ the smoker's 
sore throat ; '' ammonia, inducing thirst 
and frequent quaffing ; carbonic acid, 
and the oil of tobacco called nicotine^ 
'^ a sedative poison which exerts an in- 
fluence through the blood upon the 
tissues of the heart itself," producing 
functional disturbances of the heart, 
the brain, the stomach, the nerves, and 
incipient diseases of many kinds. Sir 
Benjamin Brodie was inclined to think 
tobacco, used inmioderately, was more 
injurious than opium; but those who 
have witnessed the terrible effects of the 
latter, where immoderately indulged in, 
adduce strong proofs to the contrary. 

From the internal appearance of a 
man who had died from apoplexy not 
long since. Dr. Lankester judged that 
he had been a drunkard ; and on learn-i 
ing to the contrary, " but a great smok- 
er," remarked that 'Mf alcohol and 
tobacco were to be tried for murder, 
alcohol would be hung, and tobacco get 
off with a week's imprisonment." 

Cigars produce dyspepsia more rap- 
idly than the pipe ; because, without a 
long mouth-piece, the nicotine is neces- 
sarily absorbed. Of all the uses of 
tobacco, chewing is admitted to be the 
most injurious, as well as the most 
odious, and it is a habit which seems to 
have stamped a nationality on the con- 
ventional "Yankee," with his spare 
form and sunken cheeks. Tet sailors 
chew immensely — a habit which has 
probably grown out of the severe rules 
for restricting fire on board ship — and 
the figure of the conventional sailor is 
exactly the reverse of that of the typical 
Yankee ; firom which fact we can only 



argae that Oie injurious effects of to* 
bacco-chewing are greatly obviated by 
the active, open-air life of the sailor. 
Some chewers dispose of from four to 
eight ounces a day I A case is recorded 
of a sailor, sixty-four years of age, and 
of uninterrupted good health, who had 
chewed for fifty years, latterly eating 
his quid, swallowing every particle of 
leaf and juice to the amount of a quarter 
*of a pound every five days. Regarding 
tobacco, as regarding other evils and their 
remedies, the doctors differ in some re- 
spects. For instance, while some aflSrm 
that tobtwico produces the weakened vis- 
ion, and the ear-ache, the well-known Dr. 
Osbom, of New Orleans, records a case 
where otalgia was cured by tobacco ; 
and extols it as a valuable remedy, in- 
ternal or external, in several diseases ; 
the pharmacopoeia also attests to its 
various uses. "Tobacco, used with 
judgment and moderation," wrote Fa- 
gon, the famous physician of Louis XIV. , 
*' may justly claim the precedence of 
all other remedies. It makes us forget 
the cares of life, renders us happy in 
extreme poverty, eases our mind, and 
even supplies the want of victuals." 
Moderation and discretions then, end 
the argument. Just as sweets or acids 
or bitters are poison to one man and 
life to another, and as too much of any 
good thing negatives its virtues, so 
must the judicious smoker regulate his 


" Tobacco I " exclaimed Sir Walter 

Haleigh — 

It passes the time, Improves the Joke, 
And taros all troubles Into smoke I 

Friend alike of savage and civilized 
man, of prince and peasant, bond of 
fraternity, a freemi^on signal of good 
"will and fellowship — when woman is 
told all this of the magic pipe, might 
she not almost envy this boasted means 
of obtaining a little tranquil enjoyment 
in this untranquil world? 

Philosophy comes to our aid. "When 
your husband gets into a passion, fill 
his pipe for him. With that in his 
mouth he cannot go on quarrelling," 
writes one who has, doubtless, found 
that a cosy nook where her lord and 
master can smoke in peace, is the best 

meAns of keeping him at home. " See 
his face relax by degrees. By the time 
the pipe is out his passion will have ex- 
hausted itself, and the promise of a new 
bonnet will in aU probability ensue." 
The victory of tobacco must be recorded 
among the great events of the middle 
of the nineteenth century. Church and 
State have succumbed to Nicotiana. A 
few years ago, if our clerical cousin 
were caught with a bigar in his mouth, 
what confusion he would betray, what 
apologies he would offer, what excuses 
in behalf of his over-worked brains, or 
the efficacy of a cigar in warding off 
infection " while fever is in the village." 
Clerical or not, who ever offers an ex- 
cuse for smoking now-a-days? The 
" occasional cigar " is supplanted by the 
constant pipe. Majesty itself has sur- 
rendered to Nicotiana ; and in royal 
residences, where not long since smok- 
ing was forbidden, a smoking-saloon is 
now acknowledged to be indispensable. 
The ear legislative has been won for 
Nicotiana, and the whole army of rail- 
road directors compelled to raise a flag 
of truce in its favor, and to set apart a 
smoking-carriage in every train on every 
line. On the contrary, where least ex- 
pected, we find some lingering struggles 
to keep Nicotiana in check ; for a reso- 
lution was lately passed in one of the 
great religious conferences in the United 
States, that any person using tobaccp 
was not to be admitted to the minis- 

Ladies, Just TraNK. — We clip the fol- 
lowing from The Richmond Evening News : 
How astonished some of our fashionable 
ladies would be if a certain law passed in 
England, in 1770, just a century ago, were 
re-enacted I "Any person who shall, by 
means of rouge or of blanc, of perfumes, 
of essences, of artificial teeth, of false hair, 
of cotton Espagnol (whatever that maybe), 
of steel stays or hoops (the crinoline of 
1770), of high heeled shoes, or of false hips 
(can such things be), entice any of his 
Majesty's male subjects into marriage, 
shall be prosecuted for sorcery, and the 
marriage shall be declared null and void." 
What glorious help this law would gi?e to 
the divorce courts t 




OLD china is found everywhere ; 
our grandfathers and grand- 
mothers delighted in punch bowls, egg- 
shell tea -cups, and porcelain monsters : 
and now every museum in Europe 
contains numerous specimens of china- 
ware which serve,, when a hundred or 
a thousand years old, as the best models 
which can be set before the pupils of the 
ceramic art ; but dishes and bowls are 
intended for use as well as show ; and 
as ours is a journal of the useful and 
agreeable, though not of the heaux 
artSy we shall say a few words about 
what china dishes sometimes contain. 

We have no intention of writing a 
dissertation on birds' nest soup, curried 
rat, or roast puppy; these are stale 
curiosities, although they have not yet 
taken their places on our tables. Our 
object will be to cull a few less hack- 
neyed necessaries and luxuries. 

The Chinese method of bread-mak- 
ing is curious : the flour is mixed with 
water, and the dough rolled by hand, 
and then shaped into cones, which are 
placed oq; trays or stands made of split 
bamboo, and cooked in the steam 
arising from cast-iron boilers ; of course 
such bread resembles our own but 
little, being a good deal like a steamed 
hard dumpling. Much of this bread 
is made of maize; but wheat bread 
is much preferred. Rice, however, is 
the common bread of China, and the 
Chinese know how to boil it, which is 
not often the case in Europe. This is 
cooked much in the same way as the 
bread, being first washed very carefully 
in several waters, then placed in bam- 
boo baskets, and suspended in the 
steam ; or it is boiled for about half 
an hour, and than put into a bamboo 
basket, and not served until nearly all 
the water has drained away; but in 
whichever way it is cooked, the grains 
are distinct. 

Peas pudding is not a luxurious or 
very expensive dish ; and the Chinese 
have what they call pea-cheese, which 
holds much the same rank; it is a 
very cheap and useful article of diet, 
prepared trom oleaginous peas^ which_ 

are also eaten as vegetables, and from 
which a rather expensive kind of oil 
is made. The making of this cheese, 
although a simple operation, requires 
considerable care ; the peas are first 
steeped in water for twenty-four hours, 
and are then drained in a basket ; they 
are then ground in a hand-mill com- 
posed of two hard stones, the upper 
having a hole in the centre through 
which the mill is fed, like a baby, with 
a spoon, the water in which they have 
previously been, being added from time 
to time, so that the peas leave the mill 
in the form of a thin paste, which is 
placed in a filter, and kept constantly 
agitated by hand; the filtered liquid 
is boiled very slowly in an iron vessel, 
and presently becomes covered with a 
thick scum ; it is then turned into a 
wooden vessel to cool ; and, afler be- 
ing stirred about for some time, a pel- 
licle is formed, which is carefully 
taken off with a wooden ladle and then 
drained ; and this is eaten either fresh 
or dried, and has somewhat the flavor 
of new cheese. This is not, however, 
the pea-cheese, which is made from 
the liquid in the vat; but a small 
quantity of water containing plaster is 
added, and a few drops of concentrated 
solution of salt obtained from the sa- 
line marshes ; the plaster hets the eflect 
of coagulating the caseine of the peas, 
and the whole mass, afler being slightly 
stirred, becomes solid. The cheese 
they produce is put in wooden frames 
about 15 in. square and 2 in. deep ; 
and these are placed on a stone to 
drain, with a piece of linen of close 
texture below each frame ; when suf- 
ficiently drained, the cheese is com- 
pressed, by means of pieces of wood 
loaded wiUi weights, to about half its 
original thickness, and is then packed 
in boxes, and often sent great dis- 
tances. The cheese will not in its nat- 
ural state keep more then a day in hot 
weather ; but is often salted and other- 
wise preserved, so as to keep good for 
years. A lump of it as big as a man's 
fist does not cost more than a quarter of 
a cent. The poor Chinese alao drink the 



liquid before it is coagulated, and the 
cheesemakers' shops are constantly 
filled with crowds of customers. Pea- 
cheese forms one of the staple goods 
of the country, and is highly nutri- 
tious. When fried in oil or grease, 
like potatoes, it makes a very delicate 
dish. Dry pea-cheese contains about 
24 per cent, of fatty, and 8 per cent. 
of azotized matter. 

Tiie Chinese and Japanese produce 
gelatine from a marine plant, ^a^e- 
loupia JUicinay to which the name of 
gdose has been given by the French 
chemist, M. Payen. The plant is 
wasbed many times in water, and 
bleached by exposure to the sun and 
dew ; it is then washed again, and 
again laid out to bleach, and these 
operations are successively repeated 
until the required color is obtained ; 
finally, it is cut in pieces, boiled for a 
long time, and squeezed violently in a 
Ixaen cloth. The liquid thus produced 
is placed in moulds, and evaporated to 
dryness in the sun. This gelatine is 
used to make jellies, and also to thicken 
dishes ; and it is also cut up into small 
pieces, and put into soup, like toasted 
bread, before serving. 

Besides ordinary sugar, the Chinese 
prepare sugar from germinated wheat 
and rice ; this glucose is called gelatine 
sugar, and is used in making barley* 
sugar and other sweatmeats ; it resem- 
bl^ manna in appearance, and enters 
into several pharmaceutical prepara- 
tions. With this glucose, raw sugar, 
etc., the Chinese manage also to make 
an imitation of honey, which deceives 
most people. 

The Chinese are very fond of eggs, 
and have more than one method of 
preserving them, the most common 
being to place them in a mixture of 
day and water, and then allow them 
to dry in the sun, so that the clay 
Ibims a hard crust around them. But 
the following is the mode of preparing 
eggs for Chinese gourmands. The 
^gs are each covered separately with a 
paste composed of tea, quicklime, sea 
salt, and oak ashes, then rolled in rice 
straw ashes, and packed in boxes with 
masses of rice to keep them from 
touching each other. They remain 

thus packed for three months, when 
they sell for about two cents each. 
They undergo a curious transforma- 
tion ; the yolk has turned green, the 
white has coagulated, and they emit 
a very strong sulphurous smell, yet 
the Chinese consider them delicious! 
Well, who has a right to laugh at them, 
— those who eat raw oysters, snails, 
high game, or decayed cheese ? 

We conclude with the copy of the 
bill of fare of what is called a regular 
mandarin supper, given by Sir Charles 
Macdonnel, at Hong Kong, in 1867, 
to the Due de Penthievre, the Comte 
fle Beauvoir, and some other French 
gentlemen : — " Preserved fruits ; fish 
roe in sweet caramel sauce ; almonds 
and raisins; shark fins in gelatinous 
sauce ; cakes of coagulated blood ; 
hashed dog, with lotus sauce ; birds' 
nest soup ; lily seed soup ; whale 
nerves, with sweet sauce ; Kwai-poh- 
Hing ducks ; sturgeons' gills in com- 
pote ; croquettes of fish and rat ; 
sharks' fat soup ; stewed sea-snails, 
with tadpoles ; sweet dish composed 
of fish fins, fruit, ham, almonds and 
essences ; lotus and almond soup as de- 
sert ; with medicated wine and warm 
arrack. Tlie mixture sounds curiously 
to American ears, yet the Chinese have 
the reputation of being great epicures. 

Fabis Industry, — In the shape of 
advertising and pufiing, is on the in- 
crease. The latest " idea " is that con- 
tained in an advertisement which runs 
as follows : — " Madame X X permits 
herself to say (idiom) that she has the 
skin white to pearls, full health, the 
cheek of roses, face of sweet expres- 
sion, blue eyes and black hair, and a 
coquette figure — therefore is full of 
health; she will be vaccinated next 
Tuesday, and in as short a time as pos- 
sible the lymph of her arm will be 
ready for the vaccination of any one 
desirous to possess a purely healthy 
vaccination. For terms, apply," etc. 

If there are Quacks who seem to 
stand up high, it is simply on accoimt 
of the numerous Flats around thenu 




IT was generally supposed that peo- 
ple living in the nineteenth century 
had forever discarded the supernatural ; 
but the case of the Welsh girl, which 
has lately terminated in so disastrous 
a manner, leads us to suppose that 
there is still a section of society (and 
apparently a very large one) that is 
easily inclined towards the extraordi- 
nary rather than common sense. The 
miserable part of the Welsh tragedy 
was, that it was taken out of the sphere 
of action in which most of these inci- 
dents appear, viz., the credulous and 
ignorant orders of society, and trans- 
feiTcd into a semi-scientific class, which, 
by its proceedings, gave it an air of seri- 
ous mystery, as though English people 
really believed in it. Whether from 
sheer stupidity or mistaken orders the 
unfortunate child was starved to death, 
will probably never be known ; but, in 
any case, it is a grievous slur upon 
the common sense of that Carmarthen- 
shire neighborhood. In almost every 
case that history records of extraordi- 
nary fasting, a very cursory examination 
refers them to the same causes, which 
are generally permanent aberration of 
intellect, or such derangement of the 
system arising i^om disease, that the 
mind becomes affected, together with 
the body. Hysteria is, of course, the 
most prominent cause amongst women ; 
and as this malady is a perfect Proteus 
for simulating other maladies, it renders 
the case correspondingly difficult for 
the physician to detect. But, at the 
same time, there is no doubt but that 
cases of fasting occur quite indepen- 
dently of hysteria or any mental aber- 
ration whatever; for children of so 
young an age h&ve been recorded as 
subsisting without food, that the source 
of trouble must have been some phys- 
ical malformation. It is stated, for 
instance, that a child was bom in 1761, 
at Grenoble, who, originally healthy, 
had a long illness when he was about 
eight years old, and recovered from it, 
save that he could not be brought to 
eat food for more than a year. Not- 
withstanding this, he kept his strength 

so far as to follow his- usual work of 
taking the laborer's dinner to the fields, 
although his dimensions shrank away 
to nothing. Then, again, there is the 
case recorded in " Hone's Every Day 
Book," of the French Living Skeleton 
exhibited in England, who certainly 
had nothing hysteric about him, but 
from early childhood appeared to exist 
as though only to show how very like 
death a man could be and live. His 
diet was never anything more than a 
biscuit, which took him the best part 
of the day to eat. 

Besides these malformations of na- 
ture, cases may arise where determina^ 
tion, backed up by considerable strength 
of mind, may so far act as to bring 
the wants of nature into conformity 
with the will. For instance, a man 
living near Stamford, England, in 1771, 
made a heavy bet that he would live 
for seven weeks without anything solid ; 
and, although he was exceedingly hard 
pressed, he won his wager, living the 
whole time on drink alone. Another 
man, who had considerably more 
method in his madness, was a miller 
in Essex, much addicted to corpulence, 
and a notorious glutton, which perhaps 
may account for it. After several 
years of high feeding, he felt very ill, 
and became a confirmed invalid, till 
one day a friend put into his hand a 
book by a foreign writer named Cor- 
naro, from which he perceived that 
excessive eating was the cause of his 
complaint. He at once diminished his 
food to such an extent, that between 
June and October, 1765, water was 
his only drink. From October to the 
next May he only took two and a half 
glasses of water even ; and on the 
31st of July in the same year he left 
off all meat, living on nothing but ' 
biscuit pudding. This heroic treat- 
ment so far prospered, that he is said 
to have regained all his former health 
and strength. In a very interesting 
recent paper in the Medical Timesy it 
is stated that the Trappists have but 
one meal a day in winter, and two in 
summer; and that, when they come 



back to their winter arraQgement, thej 
scarcely feel any sensation of being 
deprived of their usual supply after 
the first fortnight or so ; but when, on 
the other hand, they return to summer 
regimen, they experience uncomfortable 
sensations of fulness and flushing. 
The writer points out that this is a 
useful caution for people who have any 
tendency to congestion of the head or 
skin diseases of the face, and that they 
should be particularly careful to have 
their meals at regular times. The 
Trappists are allowed no meat, fish, 
butter, or eggs; yet their health is 
good, gout and indigestion are un- 
known, and scurvy is never heard of. 
These, of course, are not cases of pure 
fiftsting ; but they show how much, under 
certain circumstances, the stomach 
may become habituated to fasting, and, 
perhaps, rather to like it than not. In 
the " Academy of Sciences Reports " 
( Paris ) it is narrated that Christina 
Michelot, aged ten, and daughter of 
a vine-dresser at Pomard, fed upon 
nothing but water; whereupon a be- 
nevolent lady in the neighborhood took 
her to her house and experimented on 
her by substituting, surreptitiously, 
Ycry clear, strong veal broth instead 
of Uie water. It was no use, however ; 
the veal broth was wasted, and the 
child went into convulsions. 

Religious enthusiasm is often a very 
strong element in fasting cases. We 
may instance St. Simon Stylites, who 
ate nothing during the six weeks in 
Lent. Dr. Honigberger relates that a 
Fakir permitted himself to be buried 
in a vault sufficient time to allow of 
seed sown at the time to come up and 
sprout into leaf; while a well authen- 
ticated story is told of another Fakir, 
who, " for a consideration," would die, 
becoming apparently breathless and 
pulseless, and remaining in that state 
for many days. A man at Haarlem, 
who had become crazy ft*om some 
family troubles, announced that he was 
the Messiah, and must fast foi*ty days, 
which he really did, tasting nothing 
but a drink of water and a fair allow- 
ance of tobacco smoke. This, although 
it could not have nourished him, might 
exercise some narcotic infiuence on 

the pangs of appetite. The Dutch 
appear to have been rather prolific in 
fasting cases, for several of them are 
mentioned in various writings. In 
1589, lived Katherine Cooper, who for 
five years did not eat or drink, although 
we are told, curiously enough, that 
during the whole time *' she learnt her 
Catechism and willingly frequented 
sermons." Her story is told in " a 
Notable and Prodigious Historic of a 
Mayden who, for sundry yeeres, nei- 
ther eateth, drinketh, nor sleepeth," 
printed from the Dutch, in 1589. 

In England the most celebrated 
cases are those of the fasting woman 
of Ross-shire and the woman of Tut- 
bury. There lived in the parish of 
Kincardine, in the last century, Cath- 
erine McLeod, who, after a long fever, 
appears to have fallen into a low blood- 
less state. She could not hold up her 
eyelids, and she became unable to use 
her limbs. For a year and three-quar- 
ters nothing passed down her throat, 
but at the end of that time she sud- 
denly called out for a drink of water, 
which disappeared with great facility. 
Pennant, the old topographer, paid her 
a visit, and says that her neck was 
contracted, her chin fixed to her chest, 
and her forehead wrinkled, but that 
her «heeks were blooming. This lat^ 
ter appears to be a concomitant of 
starvation diet. Ann Moore, of Tutbury, 
lived in the present century, about 
1813 ; and though she began to starve 
herself because she liked it, she kept 
it up because she found it very profit- 
able. Unfortunately for her, when 
she had carried it on for four years, to 
her great advantage, a conclave of 
medical men established a strict watch, 
and after nine days she gave in, and 
confessed her imposture before a mag- 
istrate. So strong, however, was her 
desire of deceit, that even when the 
physicians declared she could not sur- 
vive another hour, she took a solemn 
oath that she had touched nothing for 
four years. Miss Moore evidently 
thought, at last, that a living dog was 
better than a dead lion, and it is a 
pitiful thing that the poor little Car- 
marthenshire girl was not allowed to 
think so before it was too late. 





THE Medical profession in general 
do not seem to have a very clear 
perception or knowledge of the causes 
and cure of obesity as a disease ; or 
otherwise, from a scientific basis effec- 
tive remedies would ere this have been 
applied. Oa the other hand, the public, 
while almost without knowledge on this 
subject (and how should the people have 
knowledge where their teachers are 
ignorant ), appears to have little or no 
sympathy with or appreciation of the 
real condition of the unfortunate suf- 
ferer, or otherwise the injudicious re- 
marks, and sneers frequently painful in 
society, and which even on the strongest 
mind have an unhappy tendency, would 
be withheld. When a corpulent person 
eats, drinks, and sleeps well, has no 
pain to complain of and no particular 
organic disease, the judgment of some 
of the ablest medical men seems to be 
paralyzed. In too many instances 
they seem to regard this disease simply 
as the natural result of increasing 
years, and prescribe as the remedy, in 
addition to a little medicine, more 
bodily exercise, — less sleep, less food, 
vapor and Turkish baths, shampooing, 

Corpulence, although giving no ac- 
tual pain, presses with considerable 
force upon the abdominal and other 
viscera, and hinders, if it does not 
wholly arrest the freedom of action. 
Nor is this the only evil : for by the 
development of adipose or fatty matter 
in the throat, it may, by pressing upon 
the eustachian tubes, stop them up, and 
thus produce deafness. Fatty accu- 
mulations, also, in some cases affect 
the eye and sight, and in others inter- 
terfere with and lessen the mus- 
cular power of the heart. It must 
therefore be obvious that obesity is 
not only an uncomfortable burden, but 
in some cases, at least, a very serioifs 
disease; and the question naturally 
arises as to its causes and cure. 

In the processes of digestion, starchy 
food is largely changed to sugar, and 
sugar to fat ; hence the principal causes 
in connection with nervous and mental 

inactivity which tend to corpulence, es- 
pecially in advanced life, may be found 
in an excessive or over use of those 
articles of food which contain starch 
and sugar. In the cure of obesity, 
common sense would therefore most 
clearly indicate, that all fat-producing 
articles should be withheld from the 
diet of the patient, and that ner- 
vous and mental activity should be 
largely increased. The following, on 
this subject, is from the pen of Wm, 
Harvey, F.R.C.S., England. 

" When in Paris, in the year 1856, 
I took the opportunity of attending a 
discussion on the views of M. Bernard, 
who was at that time propounding his 
now generally admitted theory of the 
liver functions. After he had discov- 
ered by chemical processes and physio- 
logical experiments, which it is unnec- 
essary for me to recapitulate here, that 
the liver not only secreted bile, but 
also a peculiar amyloid or starch-like 
product which he called glucose, and 
which in its chemical and physical 
properties appeared to be nearly allied 
to saccharine matter, he further found 
that this glucose could be directly pro- 
duced in the liver by the ingestion of 
sugar and its ally starch, and that in 
diabetis it existed there in considerable 
excess. It had long been well known 
that a purely animal diet greatly as- 
sisted in checking the secretion of dia- 
betic urine; and it seemed to follow, 
as a matter of course, that the total 
abstinence from saccharine and farina- 
ceous matter must drain the liver of 
this excessive amount of glucous, and 
thus arrest in a similar proportion the 
diabetic tendency. Reflecting on this 
chain of argument, and knowing too 
that a saccharine and farinaceous diet 
is used to fatten certain animals, and • 
that in diabetis, the whole of the fat 
of the body rapidly disappears, it oc- 
curred to me that excessive obesity 
might be allied to diabetis as to its 
cause, although widely diverse in its 
development ; and that if a purely ani- 
mal diet was useful in the latter dis- 
ease, a combination of animal food 



with sach vegetable matters as con- 
tained neither sugar nor starch, might 
serve to arrest the midae formation of 

From recent experiments made bj 
Voit, it was shown that a purely animal 
diet, freed as far as possible from fatty 
natter, is incapable of producing cor- 
polence, or even of adding to the weight 
of the body. 

** Dogs were fed on pure flesh, and 
the change of weight in their bodies, 
sad the quantity of nitrogen which was 
gi?eQ off during this time, carefully 
noted. The result of these experiments 
was the remarkable discovery, that 
even with a diet very rich in flesh, the 
animals scarcely increased in weight, 
bat were only just able to equalize 
waste and repair. The more flesh, free 
fix>m fat, was given them, the more 
cofmpletely was it assimilated in the 
body, without its organs becoming 
richer in albumen. K the amount of 
flesh given was inconsiderable, a loss 
<^ weight took place, the animal giving 
<^more albumen in the form of excreta 
than it took up with its food. Com- 
paratively small quantities of fat had 
a remarkable influence on the process 
of nourishment. Under this latter 
trntment the quantity of nitrogen ex- 
creted immediately declined ; and when 
there was a somewhat larger amount 
of flesh in the food, the absorptive and 
excretive processes were found to bal- 
ance each other. If the proportion of 
flesh in this mixed diet was increased, a 
greater increase of flesh took place in 
the body than could be obtained by an 
exclusively flesh diet, however gener- 

In another series of experiments made 
relative to the eflect of diet on the 
products of respiration^ the most nota- 
ble eflTect of fatty food was found to be 
a difninviion of the oxygen consumed, 
*' Hence to bring down a fatty body, " 
says Voit, " we must get it to take in a 
larger supply of oxygen. This can 
best be done by cutting off all the fat 
and carbo-hydrates, and increasing the 
qnaadty of proteids. The effect of in- 
ereasing the proteids is to augment the 
metamorphosis taking place in the blood, 
and diminiah the storing up of material 

in the tissues, in the shape either of 
flesh or fat. The store of fat existing 
in the body is consequently more and 
more encroached upon, and in spite of 
the great metamorphosis taking place 
in the circulation, the body continues to 
get lean. " 

Harvey, in giving an accoimt of the 
manner in which he tested his own 
theory, the result of observations and 
reflections on the physiological experi- 
ments of M. Bernard, says, — " A dis- 
pensary patient, who consulted me for 
deafness, - and who was enormously 
corpulent, I found to have no distinguish- 
able disease of the ear. I therefore 
suspected that his deafness arose from 
the great development of adipose mat- 
ter in the throat, pressing upon and 
stopping up the eustachian tubes. I 
subjected him to a strict non-farinaceous 
and non-saccharine diet, and treated 
him with a volatile alkali, and occa- 
sional aperients, and in about seven 
months he was reduced to almost nor- 
mal proportions, his hearing restored, 
and his general health immensely im- 
proved. This case seemed to give sub- 
stance and reality to my conjectures, 
which further experience has conflrmed. 

" When we consider that fat is what 
is termed hydro-carbon, and deposits 
itself so insidiously and yet so gradually 
amongst the tissues of the body, it is at 
opce manifest that we require such sub- 
stances as contain a superfluity of 
oxygen and nitrogen to arrest its forma- 
tion and to vitalize the system. This 
is the principle upon which a proper 
diet in such cases works, and explains 
on the one hand the necessity of abstain- 
ing from all vegetable roots which hold 
a large quantity of saccharine matter, 
and on the other the beneficial effects 
derivable from those vegetables, the 
fruits of which are on the exterior of 
the earth, as they lose, probably by 
means of the sun's action, a large pro- 
portion of their sugar. 

In conclusion, the following dietary is 
suggested as one that will be found use- 
ful in obesity, and in diseases that are in 
any way influenced by a disordered con- 
dition of the hepatic frinctions. Bread, 
except in ttie form of dry toast, butter, 
I milk, sugar, beer, potatoes, parsnips, 



beet-root, turnips, carrots, veaJ, pork, 
herrings, eels and salmon are among the 
things to be abstained from, on account 
of their containing starch, saccharine, or 
oily matter, or from their indigestibility 
under the circumstances. On the other 
hand, beef, mutton, lamb, venison, 
poultry, game, fish (with the exceptions 
already made) eggs, if not hard boiled, 
green vegetables, plain boiled rice, dry 
toast, and rusk in smaU quantity, several 
varieties of fruit, old cheese, occasionally 
and sparingly, tea without milk or sugar, 
and various other articles may be used 
with advantage ; due regard being had 
to regularity, as to the times of eating 
and to the. quantity eaten. Stimulants, 
such as whiskey, gin, brandy, or wine, 
may in some cases be used with benefit, 
but should never be employed except 
under the advice of a competent physi- 
cian. "^ 

Let persons who are troubled with 
fatty accumulations adopt a course of 
living in accordance with these sugges- 
tive outlines, and at the same time give 
proper attention to regimen, and to 
nervous and mental activity, and they 
will not fail to improve, by the gradual 
loss of their superfiuouJs burden. 


Sib Jahes Y, Simpson. — A cable 
despatch of May 7th, made the an- 
nouncement of the death of Sir James 
Y. Simpson, Bart., the celebrated pro- 
fessor of midwifery in the University 
of Edinburgh. 

His death took place on the €th, 
occasioned by rheumatic afiection of 
the heart, from which he had suffered 
for some weeks previous. He died at 
the comparatively early age of 59. 

He was not only regarded as an emi- 
nently scientific man in his special de- 
partment, and as at the head of the pro- 
fession in his own country, but com- 
manded the respect and esteem of the 
medical profession of the world. 

He was one of a .very few, who, by 
his own efforts, raised himself by real 
merit to positions of distinction and 
eminence; — and gave to the world 
the result of long and patient research, 
the fruit» of which shall descend through 
the present, to future generations. No 
>l<>Qger .ago .than last autumn he was 

presented with the freedom of the city 
of Edinburgh, and on which occasion 
he gave the following interesting account 
of his early career : 

" 'Tis full forty years since I came 
first to Edinburgh, and entered its uni- 
versity as a very, very young, and very 
solitary, very poor, and almost friend- 
less student. But matters are now so 
entirely changed and reversed that I 
feel at this moment as if in the distinc- 
tion which you have conferred upou me, 
the community of Edinburgh, as a body, 
offered me the right hand of cordial 
fellowship and the kindliest felicitations. 
Nor was my original ambition in any 
way very great. After obtaining my 
surgical diploma I became a candidate 
for a situation in the west of Scotland, 
for the attainment of which I fancied 
that I possessed some casual local in- 
terest. The situation was surgeon to 
the small village of Inverkip, on the 
Clyde. When not selected, I felt i»er- 
haps a deeper amount of chagrin and 
dissapointment than I have ever ex- 
perienced since that date. If chosen, 
I would probably have been working 
there as a village doctor still. But like 
many other men, I have found strong 
reason to recognize the mighty fact that 

<* There's a Divinity doth shape our ends, 
Sough hew them how we will.'' 

Or, in the language of the French 
proverb, " Man proposes, but God dis- 
poses." Through the ceaseless love 
and kindness of a dear elder brother, 
and in consequence of gaining the Mao- 
pherson University Bursary, I was 
enabled to study for some time longer 
at the university, and obtain my med- 
ical degree. Professor Thompson — to 
whom I was then personally unknown, 
^ happened accidently to have allotted 
to him my graduation thesis. He ap- 
proved of it, and engaged me as his 
assistant, and hence, in brief, I came to 
settle down a citizen of Edinburgh, and 
fight amongst you a hard and up-hill 
battle of 11^ for bread, and name, and 
£Etme ; and the fact that I stand before 
you this day so far testifies that in this 
arduous struggle I have won. Some 
seven or eight years after my gradua- 



tioD, and in ibis veiy room, all the 
fortune and destiny of my future life 
were one forenoon swayed and settled 
by a vote of the Town Council of Edin- 
burgh, when they elected me professor 
of midwifery in the university. On the 
day of election one of the patrons 
eagerly urged in this hall that if I were 
chosen as Dr. Hamilton's successor, 
the hotel-keepers, merchants, and others 
in the city, would have good reason to 
complain, as I could never be ex- 
pected, like him, to induce patients to 
eome occasionallv from a distance to 
our city. But I think that phrophet- 
ical objection has been even more fully 
gainsayed than the other ; for 1 believe 
I have had the good fortune to draw 
towards our beloved and romantic town 
more strangers than ever sought it be- 
fore for mere health's sake ; and that, 
too, from most parts of the globe — 
from America and Australia, fi'om Asia 
and Africa, and from the various king- 
doms of Europe. The Lord Provost 
has alluded in too flattering terms to 
some of the portions of the work which 
I have been permitted to do during my 
professional life. I only wish my 
deserts were more worthy of your kind 
eulogy; for sometimes, when I look 
back and reflect, I feel regret and dis- 
may that my avocations and my idle- 
ness have prevented me from doing 
more for the promotion of a science and 
art which, like medicine, calls aloud 
for so much devotion and study from 
its followers and votaries. 

Something vert New — llluminor 
tton of the body. — When persons are 
talked of as having obtained " illumina- 
tion,*' no one supposes that the remark 
is to be understood literally, as if the 
illuminated individual were brilliantly 
lit up internally with candles or gas in 
the manner of a town during times of 
public rejoibing. Henceforth, however, 
when we speak of men's enlightenment 
or illumination, it will be necessary to 
state whether the words are used liter- 
ally or by way of metaphor. A Russian 
physician has discovered a method of 
so using the electric light that the whole 
interior of the human machine may be 

observed, " almost," it is said, " as if 
skin and flesh were transparent." A 
few weeks since. Dr. Milio,- the in- 
ventor in question, who is a celebrated 
surgeon of Kiefi*, lectured at St. Peters- 
burg on this astonishing discovery he 
has made. In demonstration of the 
feasibility of his process he placed a 
btdlet in his mouth, and then caused the 
electric light to shine full upon his face, 
whereupon the bullet became distinctly 
visible through his cheek. The especial 
utility of his discovery he considers to 
be that foreign bodies, as bullets, lodged 
in the flesh, can thus have their where- 
abouts infallibly ascertained, without 
the danger and martyrdom of perpet- 
ual insertion of probes. Dr. Milio 
further maintains that in cases where 
the bullet contains the smallest adnux- 
tm:e of steel, he can provide for its 
extraction by the application of ma^ 

Aksweb to a. F. M. — Red Scars. 
— The redness of recently healed in- 
cised or lacerated wounds is caused by 
newly formed blood-vessels, by the aid 
of which the new tissue was formed 
which constitutes the substance of the 
scar. As the scar grows older the 
blood-vessels diminish in size, just in 
proportion as less nutrition is necessary. 
Any chemical application to whiten it 
would be worse than useless. In some 
few cases arising from neglect, careless- 
ness, or malpractice, a surgical opera- 
tion may perhaps be pertbrmed with 
advantage, but each case can only be 
determined, on examination by a con^- 
petent surgeon. Time, however, is the 
best and only reliable remedy in such 
cases, though it may require from one 
to several years to remove it wholly. 
A very little assistance may be rendered 
by the application of substances which 
are not irritating in themselves, such, 
as glycerine or dark collodion, to exclude 
the oxygen of the atmosphere, and 
far as may be from the light. 

Answer to A.R. — Scarlet Fever, -^^ 
Articles on this subject can be found 
on pages 92 and 365, vol. 1; 

[Reading for a Leisure Hoar.] 


WHAT is life? The ansirers to this 
unlyorsal query would fill volumes. 
In each reply there is a view of the 
respondent's life. Let us glance at a few 
of them. 

The first gentleman who undertakes to 
define life for us is not of the most amiable 
cast of mind ; decidedly not the gentleman 
we should be inclined to make a voyage 
round the world with. He begs to inform 
us that life is a desolate journey, beset at 
every step by briers. Not at all an encour- 
aging prospect to young people, flushed 
witli hope, who are starting on the voyage, 
— who are just about to put their first fin- 
ger upon the treacherous thorns. This 
gentleman we recognize as of that peculiar 
class who put mourning upon brides, — re- 
minding them, just by way of damping 
their present happiness, — that the morrow 
may find their lover in his grave. Not 
quite a reasonable course this, in our opin- 
ion. We all know that death is inevitable, 
and not a few of us, let us hope, do some- 
thing as we proceed in life, to fortify us for 
the approach of the enemy when he advan- 
ces upon us. But why be sniffing contin- 
ually at the door of the charnel-house ? 

Another individual approaches with a 
definition. He is a solemn man, not to be 
lightly approached by any one. He is not 
to be trilled with on any occasion. We 
should say he did not smile on his wedding- 
day. Life, he tells us, is but a journey to 
the grave; therefore, men are to pucker 
their faces into the most serious expression, 
and live near an undertaker. This is a 
most melancholy gentleman, who wears his 
sadness as other men wear holiday looks, — 
who is, in fact, very proud of his solemn 
aspect. Ho shines at funerals; and per- 
haps the proudest moment of his life was 
when, as chief mourner, he followed his 
friend to the grave, between rows of staring 

And now comes a jovial reckless fellow. 
He is a little worn, wo think, and the bright- 
ness of his eye suggests the use of artificial 
stimulants. He is a thoroughly careless 
man. Careless of dress, careless as a hus- 
band, careless as a father, particularly 
careless in business, — and careful only to 
imbibe his proper, or rather improper, quan- 
tity of spirits before going to bed. Yet he, 
with all his laissez f aire iogiCf has his defi- 
nition of life. He brings it out patly enough, 
ask him when you may, — to him life is a 
&rce. He is, at bottom, a hapless individ- 
ual, with very little faith in the social vir- 
tues ; inclined to laugh at heroism and to 
tMdliato ruffianism; yet, himself, a thor- 
oughly good-hearted fellow. 

A pretty girl now trips towards us wiA 
her definition. She is of the sentimental 
school; we see that at once. She has a 
white rose in her hair ; her cheek is pale, 
and she sighs frequently. '* Life," she says, 
** is a flower, — to-day, bright and beautiful, 
and to-morrow, nipt by the frost.** We 
thought so; exactly the definition we ex- 
pected. She is a young lady who, possess- 
ing much natural sense, and having one 
day opened an odd volume of philosophy, 
conceives that she has an insight not vouch- 
safed to common mortals, — that she is 
etherealized, and that all her thoughts must 
be conveyed to the outer world in meta- 
phors. She is passionately fond of flowers, 
adores the megatherium, and has much to 
say (out of an elementary geological work) 
on the tertiary formation. She informs her 
partner, in the course of a quadrille, that 
experience teaches her she exists as a tan- 
gible reality, but philosophy tells her that 
she only exists in her imagination. Many 
readers have met the young lady. The last 
we heard of her was, that she had adopted 
the Bloomer costume. 

And now we are to observe a very sallow 
young gentleman, buried in the muslin and 
gauze of a dozen young ladies, who are 
listening with open mouths. We remark 
that the young gentleman's hair is worn ex- 
tremely long, and parted down the middle 
of his head. The world is allowed to see 
much of this young gentleman's neck, we 
also perceive. A glance at his shirt-collar 
— completing the solemn picture — we rec- 
ognize the unacknowledged poet; the in- 
jured individual who haunts the coteries of 
fashion to while away time, till posterity 
pronounces a final and triumphant verdict 
on his poems, entitled, '* Sarah Jaife, and 
other Verses." Here he is, an infinitely 
condescending Apollo, and the young ladies, 
not without trepidation, hint that they have 
blank leaves in their albums. To one he 
gives an impromptu written on the summit 
of Mount Washington ; to another favored 
lady he presents his lines on the decease of 
a faithful spaniel ; and, to a third, he ofibrs 
an answer to the great question. Hero it 
is : '^Life is a rapid river, flowing into a 
mysterious sea." This definition, according 
to the poet's confidential friend, is true po- 
etry, for, '* it leaves plenty to the imagina^ 
tion." Our poet deals in the vague and 
mysterious exclusively ; and dandles Death 
through his verses with that sportive activity 
which, according to himself, only truly 
great minds can comprehend. He plays at 
football with the destinies, and terrifies young 
ladies by the levity with which he alludes to 
all that is solemn in life, and terrible in 



deftth. All this is a great pity; he would 
have made a capital banker's clerk. But, 
luckily, one of his circle has the hardihood 
to rebuke the presumption of his yerse ; to 
advise the cutting of his hair, and the dan- 
ger in which his exposed neck runs. This 
bold friend is a lady, who, if she have any 
pride, is proud of the gentleman she *' sits 
under." Slie is an uneasy maiden female 
of five-and-thirty, who thinks that jewellers 
should be indicted for openly displaying 
wedding-rings in their shop-windows. Her 
coffin is continually before her eyes. She 
has the profoundest conTiotion of the un- 
certainty of things, and is known to have 
rebuked a jovial party for appointing a future 
picnic, without reflecting that they might 
all be in their graves before the day arrived. 
She tells her friends that life is a thread, 
snapt in an instant. She has lately adver- 
tised for a situation as a cheerful companion 
to a nervous or hypochondriacal person. 

And now let us stop another passenger in 
tiie great thoroughfare of the world. Care 
has tattooed his face terribly ; lines inter- 
sect every inch of his forehead ; his eyes lie 
back from the daylight, under his puckered 
brow ; coarse lines ramble about his mouth ; 
— we linger no longer over the picture : he 
has fought a great, stern battle with the 
world, and has lost. The honey of his 
young nature has turned to gall. He has 
not a smile left for any of us. Well, not a 
few of these stern men pace our streets, 
with sixty years upon their shoulders, and 
empty purses in their pockets. They are 
men who have prospered in the beginning, 
and £iiled in the end. And they whisper in 
the ears of the flushed youths who hasten 
past them in the great struggle, words of 
■ad import — syllables that slacken the vigor 
of young blood often. Life, our tattooed 
ftiend declares, is a hideous nightmare. 
Toil, and fret, and woe, encompassing us all, 
at every step we advance, only bid us fare- 
well when the sexton takes us in hand. 

Kot by any two of us, in sliort — not by 
the bride and bridegroom at God's altar — 
Vi the question answerable in the same 
phrase. We have a letter from an old-fash- 
ioned friend of ours, who has adopted an 
answer to the question under discussion, as 
his seal. A vessel (whether brig or schooner 
the engraver has not allowed us to deter- 
mine) is rolling tremendously upon a red 
cornelian sea, so that it is evident to the 
most inexperienced spectator she cannot 
keep above water, or above cornelian, many 
minutes. Under this terrible picture are 
these words — "Such is Life!" Life, to a 
Tast number of persons, is a path of various 
widths* : to the very serious it is the nar- 
rowest of paths ; to the jocose, it is a broad 
and pleasant highway; to the young, it is a 
grc^n lane, hedged with flowers, and arched 
over with the ** crescent-promise" of the 
rainbow ; to the sceptical, it is a maze. To 
another crowd of individuals, life presents 

itselt in rarious spaces of time ; to thou- 
sands it is a brief hour, and, to the particu- 
larly philosophic, a second, and no more. 
An impetuous friend interposes witli his 
definition, and as it represents, in some 
way, tlie class of answers we should receive 
from the numbers who go through life, pant- 
ing all the way with the speed of their pro- 
gress, we give it. Life, says our impetuous 
friend, is a flash of lightning. 

The vexed question has, in truth, ao 
many answers, that they might flll thick 
octavo volumes. Every poet, every states- 
man, every essayist, every philosopher, has 
had his epigrammatic reply to our question. 
Mr. Carlyle starts forward with one — 

*' What is life ? A thawing ice-board 
On a aea with sunny shore — 
Oay wo sail — it melts beneath us, 
we are sunlc, and seen no more.'' 

Generally, to assure us of its rapid ex- 
tinction, have poets written types of life. 
According to one poet it is ** a sweet dels- 
sion; " while another plaintively asks — 

" Oh Life 1 is aa thy nong 
£adure, and^ dio ? '> 

Surely, not in any sense can life be aa 
interpreted ; for, if it were so, in vain wouM 
the poet's song be, and all unnoticed the 
mid-day lark might make the heavens ms- 
sical to us. Other poetical friends approach 
with definitions : 

<< Our life Is an idle boat 
Along a winding river.^ 

Here a gleam of philosophy lights the bur- 
den. Idle the boat is, generally, compared 
with its capacity for navigation, and little 
often do wo accomplish of the mighty sum 
of labor that lies in the hands of the weak- 
est of us ; but not altogether contemptible 
are our realizations, and it is hardly for ua, 
with all our weakness of purpose, to cry 
aloud woe and sadness, and let the boat 
float errandless and empty out to sea. 

We are fairly besieged with definitions 
now. Life is a boat, an iceberg, a muddy 
stream, a pellucid river, a game at chess, the 
toss of a coin ; a bubble, a comedy, a trag- 
edy, a burlesque, a poem to the end, a dull 
passage of prose, an ebbing tide, a sandbank, 
a dream, a fitful fever, etc., etc., etc. It is 
interpreted by a thousand images, because 
it has its thousand phases, — because it is 
supportable or insupportable, according to 
the realizations of each individual. It is a 
dream to those who wander through the 
world with their hands in their pockets, ea 
Longfellow infers : 

** Tell me not, in mournful nnmbeni, 
Life is but an empty dream ; 
For the soul is deoa that slumbers, 
And things are not what they seem." 

To the heated speculator, busy with the 
rise and fall of fiinds, it is the toss of a coin^ 


to the indifferent, it is a comedy; to few, 
indeed, let us hope, is it a dull passage of 
prose ; and to fewer still may it be a tragedy ; 
bat may many say with Longfellow again — 

** Life Is real — life la earnest. 

And our hearts, though stout and braTOi 
Btiil, like muiQed drums are beatlug, 
Fuoeral marches to the grave.'' 

And now we must close our chapter of 
definitions. Not to doleful music would we 
give our own particular definition; but 
rather to a cheerful measure, full of har- 
mony, a touch of tenderness here and there, 
always a thoroughly correct and earnest 
accompaniment, and' happy light airs tread- 
ing upon the mournful burdens, to relieve 
the whole. 


IT is really curious — the use of spectacles 
— how they trouble and mortify "some 
folks." Many are very slow to acknowl- 
edge their need of them, and are willing to 
experience much inconvenience rather than 
put tliem on. The gentleman takes up his 
evening paper to read the news. There he 
sits, in his easy-chair, holding up the sheet 
at arms' length, with eyes half shut — squint- 
ing — striving to follow the separate words 
and lines. It troubles him exceedingly, for 
the print looks dim and hazy. ** Mother," 
•ays he, (or dear,) ** suppose we have a 
M-t-t-l-e more gas? the light is very poor 
this evening. It appears to me the article 
grows poorer and poorer every quarter. 
This confounded Gas Light Co. monopoly ! 
We must have an opposition.*' (He is right, 
if h« lives in Boston ; but that would not re- 
store his sight.) The kind wife smiles 
obedience; the "fish-tails" are spread to 
their full extent; but he is troubled still. 
He secretly makes up his mind to purchase 
glasses, but it requires an enormous effort 
and long delay before the deed is done. 

If a lady the experience is similar — the 
only difference bein^ that her principle 
trouble is to thread her needle. After tea 
she takes her book and sewing. How moth- 
erly and neat she looks. The little work-bas- 
ket is in perfect trim. How nice each spool is 
wound — thread, silk, and cord. The needle- 
case — how tasteful and bright and orderly 
— just like herself; and the ball of yarn! 
How cheerful the room is, and how pleasant 
every face. The children, as usual, are ex- 
travagant in their expressions as they re- 
hearse their after-school walk to the Public 
Garden or elsewhere. Everything, with 
them, has been splendid, except Harry, who 
uses the expression ** a regular gazer;" and 
pa and ma expatiate upon their beautiful 
drive around the suburbs. The cares of 
the day are over — the servants have per- 
formed well their allotted tasks — (we now 
hear their merry laugh) — the coffee, and 
everything connected with the morning 
meal had been satisfactory and charming 
— (the ice-man seldom "misses" and the 
milk-man never) — the dinner, in all its 
Tariety (dessert included), had brought joy 
to every heart — the cosy "tea" had been 
a season of the sweetest harmony. This 

was their every-day atmosphere. The 
mother has been rightly " trained," there- 
fore scolding and fretting in this house were 

Even such eyes in time require a little 
artificial help, but our lady-mother calls one 
of the children to thread her needle after 
she herself had made various attempts to do 
so. Oh, how many times she tried ! — put- 
ting the thread to her lips, and biting off 
the end — then twisting it between her slen- 
der fingers to prepare a point. At length 
she slowly aims at the needless eye. The 
thread passes along its side — first to the 
right, then to the left — then over the top ; 
repeating this operation several times — 
now and then almost "in" — much to the 
amusement of the children, and of puss, 
too, for she is sitting at her mistress's feet 
looking straight up into her face, purring in 
deep notes, and winking. One evening at 
last she says to her husband, " I do believe, 
Charlie, my eyes are failing, and must re- 
sort to glasses ; let me try on yours." She 
places them upon her nose — looking up, 
and down, and over them — every eye upon 
her — making the children laugh and clap 
their hands — and they all exclaim " How- 
funny ma looks with glasses ! " and then 
they shout again. " Who does your mother 
look like ? " asks the father, smiling through 
his happy tears, for he had laughed as loud 
and long as any of the children. She looks 
just like ever so many people whom the 
family name over. She looks like the min- 
ister's wife where they boarded one season 
— the lady who sits in Dr. Pullem, the den- 
tist's, i>ew — the lady whom they met last 
summer at North Conway — the elderly lady 
who wears a hat — and she looks /u^ like 
Mrs. Glassim. In fact she looks like quite 
a host of persons whom they have seen. 
Little Ella wishes to " try them on," and 
she looks ** as cunning as a mouse," so her 
elder sister says ; and when she starts and 
walks the room with them still perched upon 
her nose — head thrown back to keep them 
from falling off — her little brother asks " if 
they wouldn't think it was grandma !•* 
When we can no longer " do " without thenar 
we purchase our spectacles. At first we 
wear them "on the sly." We sit down to 
read — take them from their case — adjust 



tbem upon our nose. 0, what a luxury I 
Hoir large and fair the print now appears, 
eren the very smallest. To be sure there 
is a tnfle of dizziness in the head — and our 
nose does feel a little pinched — but we 
*'get used" to them — and.soon to ourselves 
d^lare that we would not be without them 
for the largest pile of gold. 

The whole lesson is not yet learned. 
It is evening again. Our boots are off — 
our feet encased in slippers (Christmas 
present). We are cosily seated in our arm- 
cbtir, specs on nose — our heart full of con- 
tent — whiffing away at our cigar, and 
reading the latest *' irregularity," or the 
profound remarks of George Francis Train 
ipon the '* Impeachment of Gen. Grant." 
The door-bell rings. It is Uncle Joshua; 
of course they will "show him up" — into 
die parlors, ^j Jove, no I " Uncle Josh " 
is a great favorite with us all. The children 
ihoQt, " Come right Into the sitting-room — 
we are all here ! They rush out into the 
haQ and pall him into the room before I 
hare time to hide my specs. How confu- 
ting! I would rather he should not have 
ctagbt me. I don't know why — do you? 
We pass through many such scenes (at 
home and elsewhere) before becoming quite 
settled in our habit of wearing glasses. 
Sach was my experience. I have outgrown 
it now. 

Bat the great bother is to keep them after 
we have ** got " them. How often we lose 
tigiit of them ! and now we cannot do with- 
out .. . K they are gone we have no eyes 
— at least for reading. " Why, father what 
»re you looking for?" "My specs, dear; 
hare you seen them anywhere? I had 
tiiem only a moment since. See if you can 
ftod tiiem ; your eyes are sharp. Where 
cooM I have lain them ? " We hunt every- 
where ; — up stairs — down stairs ; — open 
bodts — look over the carpet — examine 
t»We-cover, oTer,*under ; — feel into pockets 
—yes — no ; — stand amazed — look at reg- 
ister—it is closely shut, can't imagine — how 
▼fry strange — grow impatient — think they 
sre hid — playing joke — don't like such 
Bonsense — stamp foot — roll eyes — scratch 
^ad — hit against something on cheek — 
"A ! — find them. Here they are ! On my 
iwsel (Fact.) G. B. Watson. 

^ WmsTLiNO. — Good whistling may some- 
times be heard, but, as a xule, a ploughboy 
will outstrip any well-bred man in whistling. 
The reason is, probably, that he is never 
haunted by a sense of the ridiculousness of 
his face, as he purses his mouth into the 
form for whistling. A friend of mine, who 
enjoyed a far-famed reputation for whistling, 
was repeatedly asked to exercise his talent 
at dinner and evening parties. But he 
would comply with the request only on 
condition that he might be permitted to 
torn his back on the company. His demand 
was on all occasions granted, whereupon 

he would turn round, and begin to whistle 
any tune he was desired. One day he 
was asked to favor his friends with a 
piece from La Somnambula, and, as was 
his wont, he wheeled round, and fixing his 
eyes on the ground, commenced whistling. 
Happening, however, to raise his eyes 
towards the conclusion of the air, he saw 
in a large mirror before him, the coun- 
tenance of his auditors, some of whom 
were trying to restrain their mirth; this 
was too much for him, and the tune was 
abruptly put a stop to, by a loud burst of 
laughter from the gentleman himself. An 
Englishman some years since gave several 
specimens of his skill in whistling, and got 
up a class to teach iL Of course there was 
giggling before the lesson actually com- 
menced, but it was presently exhausted; 
and the class, with solemn faces, waited for 
the tutor, who was trilling a few prepara- 
tory cadenzas. The order came, — "Gen- 
tlemen, prepare to pucker! " as he pursed 
up his lips. The class never got beyond 
that point. 

Thb Tbichinoscopb. — Can you imagine 
for what it is intended? I suppose you 
have heard of certain deadly worms — small 
as hairs, and, therefore, called Trichinse — 
which infest pork ? It is intended by means 
of the trichinoscope that if you have sausage 
or ham placed before you at table, you 
should be in a position to ascertain by ocular 
demonstration whether or not it is pervaded 
by parasites ! Surely it is better to abjure 
the unclean beast altogether than to be af- 
flicted with such hideous fears of the conse- 
quences of eating him. I saw a distin- 
guished chemist, the other day, begin his 
dinner by swallowing some pills of pepsine, 
made from the stomach of a pig. The pills 
were intended to enable him to digest the 
huge dinner which he had vowed to devour. 

Genuine Port Wine. — Cider, 14 oz. ; 
alcohol> 3 oz. ; strong decoction of logwood, 
4 oz. ; alum, 40 grains ; cream of tartar, 20 
grains ; white sugar, li oz. This being a 
na^tVewine, is largely patronized in America. 
By all means make it for yourself. It will 
be much cheaper than to buy it, and you 
will have the satisfaction of knowing that 
it is unadulterated. 

The Negko's Bet ijvith the Donkey. — 
You not go on, sar? dat a fact, eh, sar? 
Well, sar, I bet you a bit I make you go — 
eh, sar, what you say, dat a bet! Well; 
done, sar." The animal appeared to ac- 
cept the wager, as he laid back his ears to 
the fullest extent, threw out his forelegs, 
and evinced no intention of moving. The 
negro then, spitting copiously on his hands, 
came behind the donkey, and grasping his 
tail, proceeded to twist it round with all 
his force : the animal at once gave in, and 
started off at a brisk trot. The negro was 



preparing to follow, when my friend hailed 
him, and said, " So you have won your 
het; how wiU you get paid?** ** Oh, 
massa,** he answered with a grin, "my 
missey gib me dis ( producing a bit from 
bis pocket, which is a colonial coin, worth 
about fourpcnce) to buy him a feed of 
cam when we get to Kingston ; I gib him 
notink now, and jest spend de bit on lilly 
drap of sometink good for tomack.** 

The Album. — Dumas, the younger, was 
perpetually being worried by applications 
for his autograph and epigrams. One day 
a fashionable physician at some watering 
place brought Dumas his album, and insist- 
ed upon a trifle from tlie Lion, who found 
himself fairly caught in the toils. Dumas 
wrote, and the smiling physician, nodding to 
his admiring friends, looked over the author's 
shoulder. Following Dumas* pen, he read : 

**So great is M. T. (the physician*8 
name)*s skill, so marvellous his success, 
that since he has practised in this place, 
three out of Ave hospitals have been pulled 

down as useless, '* 

The physician, delighted with the flattery, 
interrupted him, protesting that the compli- 
ment was too great, was undeserved, and 
so forth. Dumas begged to be allowed to 
finish the sentence, and the permission 
being gladly given, he continued, 
*' and in their stead it has been found neces- 
saiy to build tvjo new cemeteries,*^ 
Dumas the younger wasn't asked to write 
in this album again. 

Photographs by Electricity. — In the 
use of electric light to multiply impressions 
of portraits, there is nothing very striking 
in the fact taken by itself; but the considera- 
tion of it develops a curiosity of nature and 
of art. The light in this particular instance 
is produced by the conversion of mechan- 
ical force into electricity. The mechanical 
force is supplied by a steau-ent^ine, which 
draws its power from the combustion of 
coals; so that the coal is the source of 
light after all. But the coal derived its 
energy from the solar rays that ripened the 
■vegetation of which it was formed thousands 
of years ago ; it is, to use George Stephen- 
son's term, bottled sunshine. llence it 
follows tliat the beauty who sits to the 
camera, really has her portrait printed by 
the ** light of other days.'" 


Dietetics. — The Chinese Feast of Lan- 
terns must be very light eating. 

• It is with health as with our property — 
we rarely trouble ourselves in looking seri- 
ously after it until there is very little of it 
left to look after. 

LovB, tho toothache, smoke, a cough, 
and a tight boot, are things which cannot 
be kept secret very long. 

Maky persona take advice as they do phy- 
sic — to fling it aside the moment the Doc- 
tor's back is turned. 

The Secret of Popularity. — Come 
into a fortune, and then your friends will 
discover in you qualities of the most super- 
lative brilliancy, the existence of which, in 
your moments of most intoxicated vanity, 
you never suspected before. 

The Battle of Woman. — A girl of 
fifteen displays courage amounting to rash- 
ness in her first engagement, but is usually 
deficient in steadiness. 

Recreations in Natural History.— 
A young gentleman of a lively turn, sent 
his slow friend to an ornithologist for a 
yellow-hammer to drive a naiL 

Truth for Teetotallers. — Thepor* 
ter that is stout will carry the biggest man 
beyond the bounds of discretion. 

Health and Beauty. — The young lady 
who is unable to sport a riding habit, should 
get into a walking habit. 

Experience is a pocket-compass that a 
fool never thinks of consulting until he has 
lost his way. 

The heart is a nursery of the tendcrcst 
plants to which the least chill often proves 
most destructive. 

The Bread of Repentance we eat is in 
many instances made of the wild oats we 
sow in our youth. 


Happy is ft^, who, ere hla mother, didh'-' 
For BO shall one remember where be lieth. 

It shall not be as though ho ne'er hod been, 
For one shall keep both grave and memory green. 

An anguUhed love over its child shall brood 
With constancy but dimly understood. 

By sach as dash their all of grief away 
In boisterous tears upon a funeral day. 

One weeps when pomp of mourning has passed Vy, 
Been oftencst, only by the Unseen Eye. 

Her first, deep bitterness, poignant as vain, 
Ood may draw out in soul-relieving rain ; 

By dint of tears, her heart may keep fh>m breaking, 
But Qod's strength only helps lier bear its aoblng; 

Time fills not wiUi a new, the broken tie, 
Nor brings oblivion, if it pacify. 

Then blest Is he^ who, ere his mother, dieXh — 
For so shall one remember where he lieth. 

charlotte f. baxbs. 

Good health. 


On the Laws of Correct Living. 


AVERY close relation exists be- 
tween health and occupation ; and 
the more widely a knowledge of the 
principles of sanitary science is diffused, 
the more certafnly will the health and 
happiness of our working population be 
secured. It is always the feeble and 
unhealthy who are the most dissatisfied 
with their lot, and clamorous for the 
reform millennium; the healthy body 
and satisfied mind exist together, and 
a man who has health to enable him to 
overcome obstacles and make his way 
in the world, is not likely to be very 
particular about the roughness of the 

The influence of occupation on the 
health is not a subject for the consider- 
ation of a single class ; for what over- 
work of body does for those who earn 
their daily bread in " the sweat of their 
, brow," overstrain of mind effects for 
Acse who live by their brains. There 
have been many instances from the 
ranks, of literature, science, and art, 
of men whose lives have been sacrificed 
by too intense devotion to their pursuits. 
Mendelssohn, who concentrated more 
brain-work within his short life than 
has sufficed for many whose years have 
extended to ten decades, died of paral- 
ysis -at thirty-eight ; his premature end 
most surely hastened by the perpetual 
murest in which he spent his every 

Oar subject readily divides itself into 
two sections, viz., influences general 
and indirect ; influences special and di- 
rect. * 

Amongst the former wp refer to con- 
ditions of defective ventilation, over- 
crowding, long hours, etc. ; and under 
the latter head we shall classify the in- 

jurious influences of particular trades. 
The packing together of numbers of 
human beings in a confined room, tends 
at once to impair the purity of the air ; 
for its vivifying principle, oxygen, is 
replaced by that most injurious gas, 
carbonic acid. It is a primary natural 
law that man needs an abundance of 
pure air to support his healthy exist- 

How imperfectly this requirement is 
supplied in large manufactories, and 
what a powerful source of mischief is 
at work in such places, may be indi- 
cated by the following facts. In 100,- 
000 parts of pure air, there are rarely 
found more than 80 parts of carbonic 
acid : iu rooms in cities freely ventilated, 
the proportion rises to 80 parts in the 
same volume, while in ill-ventilated 
rooms and workshops there have been 
found from 100 to 700 parts, or twenty 
times nature's allowance. The work- 
ing classes are exposed to no more 
fruitful cause of disease than this excess 
of carbonic acid in the air which sur- 
rounds them. When a high percentage-, 
of carbonic acid prevails, the circula- 
tion of the bftathers is generally ob- 
served to become enfeebled, the fre- 
quency of respiration to increase, and! 
nervous power to fail. Much of the* 
consumption and scrofula of town pop- 
ulations is due to an atmosphere over- 
charged with this gas. Nothing affects 
its power for ill so much as an elevated 
temperature. "Thus even 1 per cent., 
of carbonic acid may be endured at a 
temperature under 50*^ Fahrenheit, 
which at 70^ or 80° would be abso- 
lutely intolerable." On entering a 
close room in which a number of per- 
sons have been employed for many 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S70, by Alexander Moore, in the Oierk's Office 
Vol. n. — Ft. 2. of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



hours, the atmosphere seems quite un- 
bearable, and we gasp for an open 
window ; while the workpeople, accus- 
tomed to the vitiated atmosphere, seem 
to breathe with ease, and saj they do 
not feel any inconvenience. Is the 
closeness innocuous because it is not felt? 
By no means. Acclimatization is dearly 
bought. B^ the gradual depression of 
all the functions, less oxygen is absorbed, 
and the vitiated air then suffices for an 
enfeebled organism, just as it would for 
the respiration of a cold-blooded animal. 
This kind of vital depression when 
frequently experienced is destructive to 
the elasticity' and vigor of those exposed 
to it. In such an atmosphere, rapid 
and efficient work, to say nothing of 
comfort and happiness, is out of the 
question. It is gratifying to find where 
sanitary regulations have been estab- 
lished, that very decided physical im- 
provement has been effected. 

A sufficient cubic space should be 
allowed to every factory hand; and 
regard should be had no less to the 
quality than the quantity of the air 

Plainly, to manufacture perfectly 
pure air and deliver it on the premises, 
is impossible; we must, therefore, do 
what we can to keep it wholesome, by 
devoting strict attention to ventilation, 
by the adoption of disinfectants for 
drains and sewers, so as to kill or ren- 
der innocuous all organic impurities, 
and by the preservation of open spaces 
in and near the great centres of industry. 
The ventilation of mines should be 
under legislative regiJjation, and the 
most beneficial results would follow, for 
many lives would be thus saved an- 
nually. The ventilation of lodging- 
houses should also be subjected to police 
: supervision in the interests of their 
casual occupants. Surely the thousands 
who spend their lives in the workshops 
and manufactories have even a greater 
.claim on the care of the State. 

Much also might be done by the 
■working classes themselves, by the cul- 
tivation of habits of personal cleanli- 
ness. The fact must not be disguised, 
that a most baneful consequence of 
overcrowding is the vitiation of the air 
hj the emanations firom the bodies of 

diseased or undeansed persons. French 
scientific investigation has disclosed the 
unpleasant fact that skin dirt, composed 
of perspiration, oily matter, and dust, 
contains myriads of micros^pic exist- 
ences, both vegetable ana animal. 
These cutaneous emanations are dissi- 
pated in and afifect the air ; add to these 
the pulmonary 'exhalations of consump- 
tive and scrofulous persons, and some 
idea may be formed of the risk to 
health incurred by those whose days 
are spent in an atmosphere so highly 
charged with organic impurities. " The 
greater the aggregation of unwashed 
human masses, the more horrible must 
be the resulting atmospheric impurity." 

In calculating the amount of evil 
arising from general causes, such as 
those now under consideration, the fact 
should not be overlooked, that although 
there may be no fatal disease, a condi- 
tion of what has been called negative 
health is sure to be engendered, and 
the majority of the workers become 
debilitated, until life itself becomes a 

It is impossible to over-estimate the 
advantages which accrue to those who 
can mitigate the effects of the poison 
inhaled during the day by a residence 
where — 

*TIb raral : trees are to bo seen 
From eyery window, and the flelds are green; 

and it should be a matter for general 
congratulation that the building of dwell- 
ings for the laboring classes in the 
suburbs, and cheap trains for their 
accommodation, liave brought this im- 
mense privilege within the reach of 
many who could not a few years ago 
have obtained it. 

The working classes hold a remedy 
against long hours in their own hands ; 
but it is surprising to notice how slow 
they are to avail themselves of it. In- 
deed, they may be said in one respect 
to be consenting parties to the preva- 
lence of this evil, for the adults are in 
most instances not slow to seize the 
opportunity of earning " overtime,** and 
parents wiU go so far as to put pressure 
upon managers to employ children of 
tender years, and do not scruple to mis- 
state the age of their little ones. Let 



c^eradves work more quickly while 
they are at work, that they may have 
time for rest or recreation after the 
day's work is over ; for by means such 
as these they are more surely promoting 
their best interests than by falling in 
with the arbitrary regiilations of trades' 
miions, as that, for instance, which en- 
joins that a man must only use one 
hand in laying a brick. The lower 
orders of the working classes might 
well take a lesson from the diao^ 
which has passed over the halnts of 
city n^n of business. A few years 
ago the ordinary working hours were 
firoin 8 A. X. to 7 p. m. ; ^vhereas now 
10 to 5 is the rule ; work which for- 
merly occupied ten to twelve hours 
being now accomplished in half that 
time. But we can scarcely expect that 
any real improvement in the particulars 
we have mentioned will result until the 
efementary laws of health are taught in 
our schools, and the working popula- 
tion have learned how much the main- 
tenance of the sound mind in the sound 
body, "the only fund to which they 
must look for their subsistence through 
life," depends on themselves. May we 
not hope that the American workman 
will determine to secure for himself 
those advantages which his own vigor 
and energy so well qualify him to attain ? 

The general or indirect influences 
which affect the health of the operative 
dasB, have hitherto engaged *our atten- 
tion. We will now rrfer to those di- 
rectly attributable to certain callings. 
Stich a large proportion of the ailments 
and diseases of this section of the pop- 
ulation have 80 intimate a relation to 
their occupation, that it is difficult to 
deal with tiie subject within the limits 
of a single article. 

A few additional particulars in ex- 
planation of the abDve summary may 
be of interest. The destructive in- 
flaence of the steel-grinding trades is 
such, that the average age of those en- 
gaged in them does not exceed thirty 
years ; the men early contract the "grind- 
ei^s c(»nplaint," an asthmatic cough 
which ends in consumption, life be- 
comes a burden, and the firames of the 
poor sufferers waste away, by a repeti- 
tion of flk>w tortiores. 

Flour, and more particularly dried 
" corn flour, " is almost as injurious as 
metallic dust, affecting the constitution 
in much the same way. Bakers and 
millers are a short-lived class of men, 
seldom attaining more than forty years. 
" Shoddy grinders," boys employed in 
paper manufactories to sort, pick, and 
tear up old rags, suffer from a peculiar 
form of bronchitis caused by their 
dusty work, and many others are simi- 
larly affected. The principal predis- 
posing cause of the ailments of tailors 
and shoemakers is the adherence of 
these trades to the practice which de- 
mands that while at the " board" they 
shall squeeze themselves up into the 
most ridiculous of postures ; whidi it 
is obvious must considerably curtail the 
space allotted to the free action of the 
vital organs. The adoption of the 
sewing machine is, however, taking 
much work out of the hands of the 
journeymen tailors, a girl being aUe 
in a week to attain as great proficiency 
in sewing or stitching as an apprentice 
would take two years to achieve with 
his unassisted needle. 

The hard lot of milliners is well 
known. We mention their case only 
for the purpose of suggesting that the 
public who employ them might, by 
careful foresight, do more than the 
masters for the alleviation of their mis- 

Our • readers will hardly have ex- 
pected to find that sewing machines, so 
ireely spoken of as the remedy for the 
grievances of overworked seamstresses, 
may be themselves classed among agents 
of mischief; but some machines work 
heavily with an up-and-down movement 
from the hip, which soon becomes ex- 
tremely wearing ; while others arc set 
in motion by a Ught heel-and-too action, 
which may be long carried on without 

Our writing masters must bo held 
responsible for much of the disease 
which attacks those who spend their 
lives at the desk, since children are 
taught to write with their bodies twisted 
into almost impossible contortions over 
their copy-books, instead of being al- 
lowed to sit in an easy, natural attitude. 
We can recommend those who have to 



write mucii, to stand while they write, 
or else to sit on a chair with a back to 
it which may be drawn near the desk, 
and thus supply a rest for the back. 

The arsenical compounds, mercury, 
lead, and antimony, the special bane 
of artificial flower makers, meteorolog- 
ical instrument makers, and of plumb- 
ers, painters and printers, are subtle 
poisons which insinuate themselves into 
the system, and so surely as they find 
an entrance produce most disastrous 
results. Arsenic and mercury speedily 
induce a combination of disorders which 
end in an early death, whilst lead and 
antimony deal far less mercifully with 
their victims. It is the feature of lead- 
j>oi8oning that all the natural functions 
are impeded ; the removal of efiete and 
injurious matters, which is continually 
taking place in a healthy person, is 
checked ; and therefore the poison re- 
mains and. accumulates in the system 
imtil circulation and respiration become 
enfeebled, and death ensues. A paint- 
er, when discussing his mid-day meal, 
should realize that the lead in the paint 
on his hands is passing by little and 
little, vi& the bread and cheese, into 
his stomach, and may become the fruit- 
ful parent of many disorders. 

A preparation of white lead (sugar 
of lead, as it is termed, from its sweet 
•taste) has been largely used to whiten 
straw hats and bonnets. The dust is 
diffused through the air, and is inhaled 
and swallowed by the workpeople in 
such quantities as to be most injurious. 
Much illness has thus arisen, and sev- 
eral lives have been sacrificed. It has 
been suggested by a practical chemist, 
whose attention was drawn to the evil 
in question, that a paste composed of 
sulphate of baryta might be employed 
instead of the lead. This has been 
found to work well, and is quite innoc- 
uous. The white oxide of zinc will, on 
trial, be probably found equally fitted 
for the purpose. 

These insidious foes are much more 
readily kept outside the walls, than 
ejected when they have succeeded in 
forcing an entrance into the citadel, 
and the workers in these metals should 
carefully adopt simple but effectual pre- 
ventive measures. Too much attention 

cannot be given to frequent and thor- 
ough cleansing, and a very PhariBaic 
dread of eating with hands unwashed 
would prove most wholesome. 

One or two exceptional cases which 
well illustrate our subject have recently 
been brought under observation. A man 
suffering from lead-poisoning, in reply 
to inquiries as to its cause, stated Uiat he 
was a clown, and had been using oxide 
of lead in order to give his complexion 
the particular hue required by the tra- 
ditional usages of the stage. White 
zinc would not have been so dangerous, 
though probably equaUy effective. This 
incident may be a warning to others , 
who seek to improve their appearance 
by the use of similar means, ibr clowns 
are not the only persons who resort to 
external applications for ^^ beautifying" 
the complexion. 

The men employed in riveting iron 
ships long sufiered from the conse- 
quences of inhaling the noxious fumes 
from the furnaces used for heating the 
rivets within the ship's hold ; fresh air 
could only be obtained through the 
hatchways, and the men died. At 
length a remedy was found ; the rivets 
were heated on deck, and allowed to 
slide down pipes to the part of the ship 
where they were required. This poi- 
son is most rife when, in a fit of mis- 
placed economy, an attempt is made to 
bum impure and smoke-producing coke. 

It will have been noticed that most 
of the occupations to which allusion 
has been made, have been such as are 
carried on in doors. The fact that those 
whose avocations expose them to the 
inclemencies of the wind and weather 
are far more healthy and long-lived 
than those who work under cover, is. as 
remarkable as it is undoubted. 

In conclusion, let it ever be borne in 
mind that whateter may be the specific 
dangers attaching to particular occupa- 
ti(His, there is no disease so deadly as 
no occupation at all ; it is a rust that 
corrodes, and a canker that corrupts all 
vitid power both of body and mind. 
The absence of definite purpose in life, 
and of regulated effort to realize that 
purpose, is productive of the fatal dis- 
temper, of the languid stagnation of 
ennui, or of the distorted and morbid 



activities of hypocbondriasis, rendering 
Grod's gift of life a burden or a tor- 

Human beings were never intended 
for indolence ; even in tbe Garden of 
Eden tbe first of our race was appointed 
t6 dr^s and to keep it. It is never to 
bo forgotten tbat labor is a law of our 
being ; and even if tbere be some pen- 
alty involved in the difficulties and dan- 
gers attaching to labor, still it is at 
once man's glory and happiness to sur- 
moant and overcome them. A benefi- 
cent Creator in imposing a law attaches 
a blessing to obedience. Disobedience 
most bring its punishment. Lord Stanley 
baa feelingly and eloquently depicted 
the miseries affecting those who by 
their worldly position seem exempted, 
and hold themselves exempt from the 
law of labor, and has conmiiserated 
those who consume much and produce 
nothing; production in proportion to 
power is the secret of a happy balanc- 
ing of mind and body. 

No one can take even a superficial 
view of the world in which we live, of 
the vast and ever unfolding secrets 
stored within its bosom, and of the 
marvellous faculties by which man is 
fitted to discover, develop, and apply 
those secrets, without feeling that weU- 
regolated labor is happiness ; that indo- 
lenoe is death ; that '^ labor" is graven 
with a pen of inspiration over the field 
of the universe. 

Chdtese Method of Bbeeding and 
Fattening Fish. — The fineness and 
abnndanee of the fish in the rivers, 
lakes, and ponds of China, have often 
been noticed, and it is well known that 
great ingenuity and care are taken to 
keep up the supply- by artificial breeding 
and other means. These modes differ 
according to climate and other circum- 
stances; generally, a spot is. selected 
where a pond or lake is shaded by trees 
of certain kinds, so that the water is 
maintained at a pretty regular and low 
temperature for the breeding of fish. 
A shallow artificial lake, or reservoir, 
or more frequently two such, with ca- 
nals connecting them together, being 
prepared, the sides are puddled with 
day, and around are planted the kind of 

trees, beneath the shade of which carp 
and trout love to dwell. A number of 
fish arc netted in a river or lake, and 
the finest milters and spawners are 
selected (the latter in greater proportion 
than the former), and placed in the 
reservoirs already mentioned* ^ The fish 
receive daily food, composed of certain 
herbaceous (probably water) plants, 
while small balls, composed of clay and 
manure, are also thrown into the water. 
The water of the reservoirs is fre- 
quently changed, the fish being driven 
into the adjoining reservoir, if there be 
two, or otherwise collected in tubs or 
tanks until the fresh water is intro- 

One thing considered essential is 
the exclusion of the rays of the sun 
from the reservoirs, and the marsh 
willow is one of the trees largely em- 
ployed for the purpose. These trees 
are planted thickly around the pools, 
and the fish is not introduced imtll the 
branches of the trees are well developed 
and leafy, so that there is little danger 
of their dying. There is also another 
method in very general use for obtain- 
ing fine fish ; about the month of March, 
small fish are caught in the rivers or 
lakes, and kept in the nets plunged in 
water until they have reached the de- 
sired size, when they are placed in pails, 
which are carried in the usual way on 
the two ends of a bamboo placed across 
a man's shoulder, sometimes to great 
distances. For the fattening of fish, 
the males and females are often placed 
in separate tanks, and fed with potatoes, 
boiled peas, bread, decayed roots, horse 
dung, and many other kinds of refuse. 
Some of these methods are not very in- 
telligible ; but the fact is beyond doubt, 
that the Chinese have studied and 
practised fish culture for ages, and that 
their rivers, lakes, and pools swarm 
with fish. 

Aktiquitt of the Ciiigxox. — Archae- 
ological research in Orissa, India, brings to 
light tbe following: Among the ancient 
Uriahs, the style of hair-dressing was very 
striking. "The chignon," we read, "was 
common, and some specimens bore the 
closest resemblance to the Parisian coiff\ire 
of the present day, and were in somo in- 
stances one-third larger than the head." 





Beoond Paper. 

IN the fir^t paper on this subject, the 
situation and construction of the 
heart, the course of the blood through 
it, the position of the valves, and their 
mode of action, were explained ; and if 
the reader will refer to that article and 
the accompanying engravings, he will 
be enabled to comprehend readily the 
next subject I shall speak of, viz., the 
r jthm or sounds of the heart. For the ac- 
tion of the heart, like that of any other 
machine, is accompanied with sounds 
audible to the educated ear, when it is. 
applied to the chest, or when conveyed 
to the ear through an instrument called 
the stethoscope. These sounds are in- 
dicative of the heart's action, and in 
order to understand them properly we 
will review the phenomena which are 
produced by the action of the heart. 
All portions of the organ do not con- 
tract at the same time, but the two 
auricles and the two ventricles dx> con- 
tract together. We will suppose the 
blood has been poured into both auricles, 
into the right from the great veins re- 
turning it from the system generally, 
and into the left from the lungs. These 
actions follow: the right auricle con- 
tracts and forces the blood into the 
ventricle beneath, and at the same mo- 
ment the left auride contracts and sends 
the blood it contains into the lefl ven- 
tricle ; a moment afterwards the right 
ventricle contracts and sends the blood 
just received from the auricle, through 
the pulmonary artery to the lungs, and 
the left ventricle acts at the same time, 
forcing the blood received from the 
lungs, — via the pulmonary vein and 
right auricle,— out through the aorta and 
the arteries over the whole body. These 
actions are followed by a short period 
of rest, during which the auricles are 
filled from the veins again. Now this 
entire movement, — all the actions just 
described, — take place in about a 
second of time^ a fact that would seem 
almost incredible, but can be best illus- 
trated by quoting 'from the great Har- 

vey himself, who truly says the rapidity 
of these actions is not more surprising 
than those those exhibited ''in that 
mechanical contrivance attached to fire- 
arms, where the trigger being touched, 
down comes the fimt, strikes (^inst 
the steel, elicits a spark, which falling 
among the powder ignites it, the fiamo 
extends, enters the barrel, causes the 
explosion, propels the ball, and the 
mark is attained ; aU of which, by rea- 
son of the celerity with which they 
happen, seem to take place in the 
twinkling of an eye." 

Sounds of the Heart. 

Probably you have seen a physician 
apply his ear, or a queer-shaped instru- 
ment called the stethoscope, against the 
chest of yourself or of some friend, 
and have wondered^ and asked what he 
was doing. He is listening to the 
sounds of the heart, which indicate 
whether the valves and other portions 
of it are acting properly or not. 

" I told her I was trying 

By the gashing of her blood. 
And the time she took in sighingt 
To see if she were good." 

Ton know that when the piston of a 
pump is not acting properly, you can 
hear the water gurgling back in the 
cylinder ; and so if the valves of the 
heart do not properly perform their 
functions, the educated ear at once de- 
tects the sound of the blood trickling 
back into the chambers of the heart 
through the imperfectly closed valves. 
In old people the valves frequently 
become diseased, from a bony deposit 
into their substance. This is easily 
detected by their imperfect action, and by 
a harsh, grating sound when they come 
together. Enlargement of the heart, 
and imperfect action of any kind, is also 
readily detected by the stethoscope. 
A few years ago, a Frenchman named 
M. Groux (a physician, I think) visited 
most of the medical colleges of the 
country, and excited considerable in- 



terast from the fact that tlie Btemum or 
breastbone, which ordinarily covers a 
large portion of the heart, was split \a 
the centre (he having been bora in this 
condition), so that by exerting his arms 
freely, the muscles attached to the sides 
of the bone pulled it apart, leaving the 
heart lying just beneath the skin, so that 
it could be examined as easily as if 
(nvered by a cloth only. I remember 
that some people very innocently thought 
that M. Gronx could open the chest 
and expose the heart naked to the eye. 
In common with many others I saw 
this individual, examined his heart hy 
die ear, and, from the sounds heard, it 
would be difficult to say just what would 
represent them. You can hear them 
for yourself by putting your ear to the 
chest of any of your friends, applying 
it just below the nipple, and between 
the fiflh and sixth ribs of the left side, 
or, laying the finger of one hand along 
the ear with the point upwards, and 
tapping it lightly and slowly with a 
finger of the other hand, will give you 
a fair idea of the sounds, ll^ere are 
two of these — following each other 
quickly — the first is prolonged and 
soft, the second more short, sharp, and 
quick. The cause of these sounds has 
been disputed, and even now their ori- 
^ is not fully known, but it is prob- 
able that during the first sound, the 
two ventricles contract, the point of the 
left ventricle striking against the ribs, 
the Tfdves between the auricle and ven- 

tricle close the opening, and (he blood 
is forced into the aorta and pulmonary 
artery ; and during the second sound, 
the valves of the pulmonary artery and 
aorta shut back, the auricles contract 
and pour the blood into the ventricles, 
and the ventricles expand. That the 
second sound ia in a measure due to the 
shutting back of the aortal valve?, is 
pretty 'certain, from the experiments 
made on animals, by thrusting a needle 
with a hook on the end into the aorta, 
and hooking back the valves so that 
they could not act, when the second 
sound vanished ; but on the release of 
the valves, teas imtaediaiely heard again. 
The physician is supposed to have a 
thorongh knowledge of all the sounds 
of the heart, and as far as possible of 
the cause of each sound; and with 
such knowledge, when any deviation 
from the natural sounds occurs, he can 
recognize the origin of it, and where 
the trouble exists ; and then his know- 
ledge of general medicine is brought 
into play, to enable him to remove 
the cause of the disease as far as pos- 

Yon wiU see how necessary a thor- 
ough knowledge of the action of the 
valves and the sounds of the heart is 
to the physician ; and a person unac- 
quainted with the mechanism of n 
watcb might as well try to repair one, 
as a physician to attempt to treat dis- 
eases of the heart successfully without 
a proper knowledge of the sounds, 

The upjicr earface of the heart with the auricles dissected away. The upper mrfMO 
ot the panialt; closod valves is seen. 1-3, tlio tricuspid valve and opening of right Ten- 
tricle. 8, the mitral valve and opening of ieft ventricle. 4-6, scmilnnar, or holf-moon- 
■haped valres of the pulmonar; artery and aorta. These vessels are also represented as 
disaectcd away. 



and action of the organ. In both cases 
the result would be about the same. 
Plate 4, with this paper, will show the 
situation of the valves, and the manner 
in which their edges come together. 

Number of Contractions of the Heart 

and FuUe, 


The reader will understand, I sup- 
pose, that evei'y contraction or " beat" 
of the heart is attended by all the phe- 
nomena of sounds, etc., that I have 
described, and that the '^ pulse " which 
the physician feels, for at the wrist (as 
the most convenient place) is the con- 
tinued wave or impulse of the blood 
commenced at the heart and continued 
through the artery. The vessel is par- 
tially lifted from its bed by the impulse, 
and the movement is felt by the finger 
of the physician placed over the situa- 
tion of the artery. Vide Plate 5. Each 

Artery pulsaUng. 


Artery at rest. 

It will bo Bcen that the artery U partially lifted 
from Ita bed during the pulaaUen, and strikea against 
the tlMues covering it. 

beat of the pulse at the wrist indicates 
a contraction of the heart, so that if 
a pulse is beating seventy-five times in 
a minute, the heart contracts as fre- 
quently in the same time. The usual 
number of these contractions in a 
healthy adult is seventy-two per min- 
ute, but a marked deviation from this 
rule may exist without being indicative 
of sickness. For example, a dozen 
men will present themselves to an ex- 
amining surgeon, and perhaps in that 
number of subjects the different pulses 
will range from sixty to eighty in the 
dififerent individuals. At different ages 
it varies greatly. In infants shortly 
after birth it is found to be from one 
hundred and twenty to one hundred 
and forty in the minute, in children of 
three or four years it is about one hun- 

dred, and in the healthy adult it nsa- 
ally ranges between seventy and eighty ; 
but in all these cases it may vary 
somewhat from the usual standard, 
without any disease existing. It be- 
comes less frequent with advancing 
years, falling as low as fifty sometimes, 
but in the very aged it occasionally in- 
creases to a degree approaching the 
rate of childhood. Increased frequency 
of the beat denotes increased fre- 
quency of the heart's action, and vice 

Effects of Disease on the Action of ihe 


The frequency of the heart's action is 
affected by many causes beside disease. 
When the general system is depressed by 
cold, hunger, exposure to wet, and in 
diseases characterized by depression 
and prostration, as jaundice, and gen- 
eral debility, from almost any cause, 
the pulse is lowered in frequency and 
force ; it is also affected in the same 
way by severe prostrating shocks, such 
as immediately follow a severe wound, 
a condition known to surgeons as 
"collapse." In concussion and com- 
pression of the brain, also, the pulse is 
very low. 

Increased frequency of the heart's 
action is indicative of acute inflammar 
tory diseases ; hence it is found in nearly 
all fevers, in acute rheumatism, and 
in diseases of the lungs. 

Effects of Exercise. 

Physical exercise increases ii£ fre- 
quency in a very marked degree: a 
boat's crew will return from a closely 
contested race with pulses beating 
thirty or forty beats in the minute 
more than when they started ; and so 
running, or any kind of violent e^^er- 
cise calling for an unusual degree of 
exertion, has the same effect. You 
can easily satisfy yourself of the effects 
of muscular exertion on the pulse by 
counting it when lying down, and again 
on standing erect, when you will find it 
beating five or six beats faster in a min- 
ute than when lying down, and on walk- 
ing swiftly across the room once or 



twice, you will find it increased ten or 
twelve more beats in the minute. 

Efftd of Mental Emotion. 

Mental emotion sends the pulse 
up into the high latitudes even quicker 
than physical exercise. Almost every 
one has at some moment of great anx- 
iety felt his heart throbbing against 
his chest like a trip-hammer, so that he 
could not only feel^ but hear- it . If you 
could examine the pulse of a man on 
trial for his life, as he scans anxiously 
the faces of the jury returning into 
court with the verdict which decides 
his fate, you would find his pulse beat- 
ing with double the force and fre- 
quency natural. The student await- 
ing the result of an examination or the 
award of a prize, and the gambler 
who has staked everything earthly on 
the turn of a card, will alike furnish 
examples of the power of mental anx- 
iety of the heart. Slip your finger on 
the wrist of " the dear girl " who has 
been anxiously awaiting your coming, 
as she meets you at the door, and des- 
pite her assumed indifference you will 
find that the heart will respond to the 
emotions of the mind ; or, to bring it 
nearer home, confess that your own 
heart has been set going ^'pit-a-pat, 
pitpa-pat," by the '' mischievous god 
Cupid," and I think you will no longer 
deny that the mind has a great effect 
on the heart's action. But mental 
emotion does not always increase the 
heart's action, sometimes having a 
directly contrary effect. Every one 
knows the effect of the sudden commu- 
nication of sad intelligence ; the heart 
seems to be paralyzed, its functions 
are nearly suspended for a time, and 
the person falls as if dead — having 
fainted. Actual death has been caused 
by the sudden receipt of exciting news. 
'The heart might undoubtedly be rup- 
tured from such a cause, and Shake- 
speare seems to entertain some idea of 
this kind, when wishing to convey an 
idea of Caesar's sense of the ingrati- 
tude of Brutus, he says: ^'Then 
burst his mighty heart." There is a 
popular recognition of .the- effect of the 
mind on the heart, in the expressions 

" broken heart," " warm-hearted," etc., 
in such common use. Of course the 
truth is that the heart is affected by 
emotions, etc., only secondarily through 
the brain and nervous system. Physi- 
cians always recognize the liability of 
the heart to be affected by mental 
emotions, particularly in invalids, and 
when entering a sick room avoid, or 
should avoid, all possible means of ex- 
citing the patient by too sudden or 
unpleasant inquiries, or by unseemly 
haste, and attendants should observe 
the same rule. 

Exciting Causes pf Diseases to he 


Persons who have any reason to sus- 
pect that they are subject to disease of 
the heart, should scrupulously avoid any 
excitihg cause, either mental or phys- 
ical, should not engage in any occupa- 
tion entailing exciting exertions upon 
them, and should avoid the use of to- 
bacco, and stimulants of all kinds, as a 
slight affection of the heart, which 
might otherwise cause but little trouble 
for a long series of years, will speedily 
be developed into active existence, by 
the frequent repetition of exciting 

Action of Heart affected hy Medicines, 

The action of the heart is very read- 
ily affected by drugs of different kinds. 
Alcohol, ammonia, and stimulants of 
all kinds increase it, and narcotics, like 
opium and tobacco in large quantities, 
decrease its frequency ; and physicians 
very often take advantage of these 
properties of different medicines, to 
enable them to control the action of 
the heart when disordered. 

General Indications of the PtUse* 

From the above remarks on the 
pulse, the reader can gain some gen- 
eral ideas which may be of service, 
when removed from medical assistance 
or advice. If you find a person with 
a pulse beating from ninety to a hun- 
dred times in a minute, joined with a 
hot and fiushed skin, parched tongue 



and lips, headache, etc., you may be 
pretty sure that it is the commencement 
of a ^^ fever ; " and if, added to these 
symptoms, there is difficulty in breath- 
ing and pain about the chest, it is prob- 
ably some inflammatory disease of the 
lungs. While on the contrary, a slow 
pulse of from fifty to sixty, accompa- 
nied with coldness of skin and extrem- 
ities, indicates some disease, attended 
with great- prostration and debility. In 
certain cases, great debility is attended 
with a small, tremulous, but very rapid 
pulse of a hundred and ten to a hun- 
ered and thirty. This latter is one of 
the most dangerous signs that can exist 
in connection with a disease. 

There are other charactenstics of 
the pulse which are not of interest to 
the general reader, but which are of 
Talue to the physician, as being indicar 
tive of the character of disease ; but 
the distinctions between these different 
characteristics are altogether too nice 
to be understood by tlie general reader, 
so that when the pulse does indicate 
any marked deviation from the natural 
standard, it is better to consult a phys- 
ician than to decide for yourself. 

The rate of the pulse was at one 
time thought to be the most prominent 
symptom to be considered in connection 
with a disease, and it is stiU regarded 
as a very important one, but is always 
considered in connection with other 
symptoms, on account of the great 
variety of causes by which it is affected. 

Pbepabation op Potatoes. — The 
following is given as a method of pre- 
paring an extract of the alimentary 
portions of the potato : — The pota- 
toes, after being washed, are digested 
in water not hot enough to render the 
starch of a gelatinous consistency, but 
sufficiently so to soften the fibrous por- 
tions of the tuber, and allow of the 
solid alimentary portion being retracted 
with the water by mechanical pressure. 
This result, it is said, is produced in 
from sue to ten hours by digestion in 
water heated to 104^ to 140^ Fahren- 
heit, the exact heat, as well as the du- 
ration of the digestion, depending upon 

the state of maturity, and the natural 
softness or hardness of the cellular tis- 
sue of the potato. In general, eight 
hours in water heated to about 120^ is 
said to be sufficient for the purpose. 
When the digestion is completed, the 
potatoes are allowed to cool, or, what 
is better, are plunged into cold water ; 
they are then reduced to such a condi- 
tion that all but the cellular matter may 
be squeezed out without diffculty by 
means of any kind of press, the pressure 
being slight at first and gradually aug- 
mented; this second process occupies 
three, six, or even twelve hours, accord- 
ing to the degree of flexibility given to 
the tissues by the previous digestion 
and refrigeration. 

The liquid thus obtained is boiled 
and condensed by evaporation until it 
assumes the consistency of Liebig's 
extract of meat, to which it bea^ 
considerable resemblance ; like that 
preparation, it is almost incapable of 
decomposition in contact with air under 
an average temperature, and an or- 
dinary amount of moisture, and 'Conse- 
quently can be preserved with little 

HoBSE-FLBSH AS FooD^ — In Paris, 
from the 9th July, 1866, when the first 
horse-fiesh butchery was opened, to the 
31st December in the same year, 902 
horses (a few mules and asses b^g 
included) were slaughtered, and their 
fiesh averaging for each about 440 lbs. 
in weight, gives a total of about 180 
tons; in 1867, the total consumption 
of this kind of meat rose to 430 tons ; 
and in the following year it amounted 
to rather more than 480 tons. In these 
two years and a half the totals were 
5,475 horses, yielding 1,095 tons of 
meat, without including the livers, 
tongues, hearts, etc., which were also 
used as food. The price of horse-beef 
in Paris is less tlian half that of ox- 
beef. The returns for the rest of 
France are not complete, but judging 
from partial accounts, and according to 
the number of towns in which this land 
of meat is used, the committee beHeves 
that the total consumption amounted, 
in 1868, to 2,000 tons. 




BT v. S. BilBFT, X.A. 

Third Pfepcr. 

WHAT is the treatment to be pur- 
sued in cases of poisoning by 
corrosive sublimate? Fortunately, it 
readily forms insoluble compounds 
with albumen. Albumen is therefore 
said to bo its antidote. When a per- 
son lias taken this poison, either by 
accident or design, or has had it ad- 
ministered with intent to destroy life 
(this rarely happens, from the difficulty 
of concealing its peculiarly nauseous 
taste), the first thing to be done is to 
freely administer white of ^%%. M. 
Thenard, the great French chemist, 
during his lecture, by mistake drank 
a strong solution of corrosive subli- 
mate. He immediately discovered 
what he had done, and made the fact 
known to his class. The excitement 
produced was intense. He told them 
to bring him eggs. Eggs were sought 
for in every direction ; in a few min- 
utes large quantities were obtained by 
his anxious pupils, and thus the life of 
this eminent professor was saved. 
This happened shortly after the dis- 
covery of the effects of albumen on 
corrosive sublimate were discovered by 
Qrfila. A case is also recorded of a 
gentleman who, by mistake, drank a 
portion of an alcoholic solution of this 
sobetance. He was so alarmed by 
the taste that he did not finish it. 
He was, however, seized with a sense 
of tightness in the throat, burning at 
tlie stomach, and purging. Orfila 
saw him when the symptoms had ac- 
quired great severity, having lasted 
two hours. The administration of 
white of egg caused a mitigation of 
his sufferings, and he ultimately recov- 

It is asserted by Peschier, that the 
white of one egg will render four grains 
of corrosive sublimate innocuous. Or- 
fila administered to a small dog twelve 
grains of this poison; after it had 
acted for about eight minutes, the 
whites of eight eggs were given; it 
Tomited several times, the pain ceased, 

and in five days it quite recovered* 
The white of ^%% should be beat up in 
a little water, and it should be given 
freely at intervals. A woman, named 
Bose Maney, poisoned herself with 
corrosive sublimate ; various remedies 
were tried, but with little benefit. The 
morning after the poison was taken, 
the whites of two eggs, beaten up 
with a little cinnamon water, were 
given; this dose was repeated every 
half hour, until she had taken the 
whites of twelve eggs, when she began 
to feel easier ; and, during the time 
she had been under this treatment, she 
had only vomited twice, and other 
unfavorable symptoms began to dis- 
appear. The white of ^^% treatment 
was continued until she had taken the 
whites of thirty-two eggs. She went 
on progressing favorably, and was 
eventually cured. Here the albumen 
was not given tiU many hours after 
the poison was first taken. There is 
another substance which is considered 
to act as an antidote, namely, gluten. 
Its properties were discovered by 
Taddei, an Italian chemist. In ad- 
ministering it, it is usual to mix the 
gluten with soap, so as to hold it in 
suspension. If eggs are not at hand, 
gluten may be thus used. It is easily 
prepared by kneading dough, made of 
flour and water, under a tap from 
which the water is pouring in a small 
continuous stream; the starch is 
washed away from the fiour, the gluten 
remaining behind ; and this should be 
rubbed up with soap, and rinsed with 
water. From experiments made by 
Dr. Devergie, it does not seem to be 
as effective an antidote as albumen, 
yet the experiments of Professor 
Taddei show that it forms insoluble 
compounds with corrosive sublimate, 
so as to perfectly precipitate it from a 
solution of that salt. His experiments 
on animals are on the whole satisfac- 
tory, and a case is recorded of the 
cure of A man, by its means, who had 



taken seven grains of corrosive sub- 
limato by mistake for calomel. If 
albamen and gluten cannot be obtained, 
milk may be given, as it contains 
casein, which is similar in its action 
to albumen. Iron filings mixed with 
gold dust or gold leaf cause the de- 
composition of corrosive sublimate 
with precipitation of metallic mer- 
cury, which is not a poison ; and even 
iron filings alone produce the same 
effect. These substances have been 
tried with excellent results on animals. 
Opium has the effect of counteracting 
the action of this poison, but it would 
be dangerous to administer it in suffi- 
cient quantities. This property is 
due to the meconic acid which it con- 
tains. The action of meconic acid is 
to form insoluble compounds with 
metallic oxides, when it is combined 
with a substance such as morphia, 
forming a salt which is soluble. In 
most cases of poisoning, immediate 
resort is had to the stomach-pump. 

It should, however, be used with 
the greatest care, if employed at all, 
in poisoning by corrosive sublimate, 
the action of that substance being to 
corrode rapidly the stomach and the 
passage which leads from it to the 
mouth, which is called the oesophagus. 
Every effort should be made by means 
of emetics to secure the ejection of all 
matters from the stomach, and these 
should be given with whatever other 
antidotes are employed, whether al- 
bumen, gluten, milk, or iron filings. 

The metal mercury is not a poison, 
that is, when taken in the liquid state. 
Dr. Taylor mentions that a person, 
who suffered from obstinate constipa- 
tion, took as much as half a pound of 
fluid mercury in five days, without its 
producing bad effects. Dr. Daniel 
Turner, who lived in the reign of 
Charles 11., in his "Treatise on Dis- 
eases of the skin, and the Antient Phy- 
sicians' Leg^y Impartially Surveyed,^' 
in speaking of quid^silver, says : " In 
King Charles II.'s reign, I very well 
remember, though it is about fifty years 
paat, a physician knighted by that 
prince, whose name I can sometimes 
recollect, though not at this moment, 
encouraged it much, who livedjretired 

somewhere about Edmonton, and when 
the villagers round coming to consult 
him, especially on their children's dis- 
eases, he advised a thimbleful of quick- 
silver to be given them every morning 
for a month." The beauties of the 
court of King Charles 11. used to take 
crude mercury as an alterative; and 
it was common to take a teaspoonfol, 
morning and evening, to beautify the 
complexion, to remove a freckle, or to 
give a pearly lustre to the skin. It 
was found that the mercury passed un- 
changed through the system, and that, 
too, with considerable rapidity. Bat 
those who are exposed to the action of 
vapor of mercury, or who are much 
engaged in handling it, often suffer 
from it very materially. Its effects on 
miners are often very severe. Dr. 
John Wilkins, in the " Philosophical 
Transactions,'* in the year 1666, in 
which he describes the quicksilver 
mines at Priuli, in the Venetian terri- 
tory, says that, although the miners 
stay under ground only six hours at a 
time, aU of them die hectic, or become 
paralytic. He saw there a man, who 
had not been in the mines above half a 
year before, so full of mercury, that on 
putting a piece of brass in his mouth, 
or rubbing it between his fingers, it 
immediately became white like silver, 
and so paralytic was the unfortunate 
man that he could not with both his 
hands carry a glass half full of wine 
to his lips without spilling it — though 
the doctor quaintly adds, he loved the 
wine too well to throw it away. Shak- 
ing palsy, and salivation, appear to be 
the consequences of exposure to the 
vapor of mercury. Barometer makers 
and looking-glass silvercrs are both liar 
ble to these affections. Dr. Chrlstison 
relates a case of a barometer maker 
and one of his men who were exposed 
one night, during sleep, to the vapors 
of mercury from a pot on a stove in 
which a fire had been accidentally 
lighted. They were both most severely 
affected, one with salivation, which 
caused the loss of all his teeth, the 
other with shaking palsy, which lasted 
to the end of his life. Chemists who 
have to work much with metallic mer- 
cury often suffer from the effects. 



The medicine known as calomel, 
which is a chloride of mercury, con- 
taining less chlorine than corrosive 
sublimate, has been found to act as an 
irritant poison. The poisonous effects 
of calomel have been attributed to the 
presence of corrosive sublimate, an 
impurity not unlikely to occur from the 
method of its manufacture. It has 
been stated that corrosive sublimate is 
made by heating mercuric sulphate 
with common salt; calomel is made 
in the same manner, only that an 
equivalent quantity of mercury is add- 
ed. Both substances are volatile, and 
it is therefore very possible that some 
corrosive sublimate might pass over 
wiUi the calomel. However, such care is 
taken in the manufacture of this import- 
ant drug, that this impurity is rarely 
found in it. Dr. Christison examined 
ten specimens, and found but the merest 
taice of corrosive sublimate in them. 

Two cases are mentioned by Hoff- 
man in which fifteen grains of calomel 
pfTOved fatal to two boys, aged twelve 
and fifteen. One of them had vomiting 
and tremors of the hands and feet, and 
died on the sixth day. The other died 
after suffering from extreme anxiety 
and black vomiting. It is clear that 
very large doses of calomel may be 
taken without producing poisonous 
effects. In the East it is used not only 
as an irritant, but in large doses a sed- 
ative. In yellow fever it has been 
given in doses of from ten to twenty 
grains four times a day. A strong, 
healthy girl took an ounce of calomel 
by mistake, thinking it was magnesia ; 
it was mixed with milk. After some 
hours the mistake was discovered. 
Emetics were given. She had previ- 
ously suffered slightly from nausea and 
£ftintness. After a time severe griping 
pains set in, and there was much ten- 
derness of the abdomen. In four days 
she recovered, and strange to say, she 
escaped salivation. Since calomel has 
acted as a poison, it is necessary to 
notice the method of its action. Its 
effects are those of an irritant poison, 
though it may destroy life by causing 
gangrene of the mouth and throat. 
Chemically, calomel has some reactions 
different from corrosive sublimate. It 

is a dense white powder of a slightly 
buff tint; it is not soluble in water, 
neither in ether, nor in alcohol. 

It will bo well to notice briefly the 
other salts of mercury which have oc- 
casionally been used as poisons. The 
red oxide, mercuric oxide, which con- 
tains 200 parts of mercury and 16 of 
oxygen, is usually prepared by cau- 
tiously heating mercuric nitrate. It 
is in appearance of a scaly nature, and 
bright scarlet color; when heated it 
changes to a chocolate brown, and 
eventually becomes black; on expo- 
sure to air it recovers its red color 
again. If, however, the temperature 
be raised considerably, it is decom- 
posed into oxygen and mercury, which 
volatilizes, and is condensed in the 
cool part of the tube in minute bril- 
liant globules. This red oxide is used 
in medicine, generally as an ointment ; 
it is also employed, mixed with fat, for 
the destruction of vermin which infest 
bedsteads. Several cases of poisoning 
by this substance are recorded ; the 
symptoms resemble very much those 
which have been described as produced 
by other preparations of mercury. The 
quantity required to cause death seems 
to be large; thirty grains have been 
taken without producing serious con- 
sequences. The best treatment appears 
to be the administration of emetics and 
demulcent drinks with albumen or 
gluten. Cinnabar or mercuric sul- 
phide, the black sulphide of mercury 
precipitated by hydric sulphide, when 
dried and heated, sublimes, forming the 
red sulphide ; they are identical in 
their chemical composition. Cinnabar 
is the principal ore of mercury, it oc- 
curs crystallized in six-sided prisms. 

The paint called vermilion >5onsists 
of this sulphide artiflcially prepared. 
The methods of preparation differ in 
different places, and with different 
makers, but all are the same in prin- 
ciple. Animals have been killed by 
its action, even when it has been ap- 
plied to wounds. There is no instance 
on 'record of a human life having been 
destroyed by it. Mercuric sulphide 
contains mercury and sulphur in the 
proportion of 200 parts of mercury to 
32 parts of sulphur, by weight. 



Tarpeth mineral is a yellow basic 
sulphate of mercury. But few cases 
of poisoning by this substance are re- 
corded. It is obtained by acting on 
the normal white sulphate with water. 
It is very heavy, and has an acfrid 
taste. When heated the mercury is 
sublimed, and sulphurous acid is given 
off, which may be detected by its smell- 
ing like burning sulphur. If boiled 
with caustic potash, potassic sulphate 
is formed, and mercuric oxide pre- 
cipitated. The sulphate can be de- 
tected by its giving a white precipitate 
with a soluble baryta salt, which is in- 
soluble in all acid liquids. The mer- 
cury can be detected by the reactions 
already described. 

Mercuric cyanide has been already 
alluded to. Cases are on record of 
persons having been poisoned with this 
salt. It is easily detected by the action 
on it of heat; it is decomposed into 
mercury and cyanogen gas ; the cya- 
nogen bums with a very beautiful rose- 
colored flame. It is hardly neccessary 
to mention the nitrates ; the action of 
mercuric nitrate on the human frame 
is the same as that of corrosive subli- 

Poisoning by copper is very rare, 
except as the result of accident, yet 
very serious effects have been produced 
by taking salts of this metal. It is 
largely used in the manufacture of 
saucepans and cooking utensils, and 
was, not many years ago, put into 
pickles to increase the green freshness 
of their color. It is often employed by 
confectioners for coloring their sweet- 
meats, and the decorations they use 
for ornamenting cakes. It is found in 
combination with arsenic in some of 
the green colors of the paint-box ; and 
the colors known as verdigris and ver- 
diter are preparations of the acetate 
and carbonate of copper. 

The salts of copper are rarely used 
by the poisoner, because they have a 
deep and well-marked color, and a 
very acrid taste. The general color of 
cupric salts is blue or green. 'Blue 
stone (blue vitriol), the sulphate is of 
a bluish green color, the nitrate is of a 
deeper blue, and the chloride is green. 
The metal copper does not seem to be 

poisonous, but, when taken into the 
stomach, it meets with acid liquids, by 
which it may be oxidized and dissolved. 
Dr. Taylor relates the case of a boy 
who was engaged in printing gold let- 
ters, — the gold employed is an alloy 
of copper, — this substance reduced to 
a fine dust, floats about in the air ; the 
boy inhaled these particles, and on the 
third day was seized with vomiting of a 
green colored fluid, with heat and con- 
striction in the oesophagus, pain in the 
stomach, loss of appetite and rest, and 
with a severe itching of the skin in 
those parts covered by hair, which 
parts were changed to a deep blue 
color. About .twelve pei^ons engaged 
in the same employment were similarly 
aflected. The use of copper cooking 
utensils is not objectionable, if they be 
kept clean, but certain substances em- 
ployed in cooking have a tendency to 
to dissolve the metal. Oils and fatty 
matters have this action. It has been 
said that they miut first become rancid, 
but this is not the case. Fresh butter 
has been found to act on copper, and 
the surface of tt copper-plate has be* 
come blackened in twenty-four hours, 
when covered by that substance, and 
the butter itself has become green; 
this only occurred when it was in con- 
tact both with the air and the copper. 
One therefore concludes that the pres- 
ence of air is necessary to produce this 
result. Dr. Christison says that, in 
fresh hog's lard, he has found that the 
whole lard in contact with the copper 
becomes blue, even to a depth to which 
the air can scarcely reach. Hot oil 
acts in a similar manner ; one knows 
the effects produced in old-fashioned 
brass lamps, where the oil which re- 
mained in the receiver for the drip- 
pings, was almost . invariably ' green. 
Vinegar dissolves copper, and the veg- 
etable acids generally, in the presence 
of atmospheric air. It seems to be 
necessary to keep the metal covered 
with the fluid, and then these effects 
are not produced. It is, however, most 
dangerous to allow any acid substuxces 
that are to be used for food, to stand 
for any length of time in copper ves- 
sels. Preserves ore usually made in 
cc^per or bronze pans; these should 



be emptied oat as soon as the opera- 
tion is completed, and the pans should 
be well cleaned, as the fruit acids 
would . inevitably oxydize and form 
poisonous salts with the copper. A 
case is recorded in Wildherg^s Fradi' 
eal Momual^ of a servant who lefl some 
sour krout, for only two hours, in a 
cof^per pan which had lost its tinning. 
Her mistress and a dau^ter, who took 
the cabbage at dinner, died a^r twelve 
hoars' illness, and Wildberg found the 
cabbage so strongly impregnated with 
copper, that it was rea^y precipitated 
on iron. Any amount of carelessness 
in the use of copper vessels, on the 
part of servants, may be attended with 
very serious results, so that it seems 
almost advisable to abandon their use 
in favor of iron ones, which are not 
liable to these objections. A case is 
related by Gmelin, of a whole commu- 
nity of monks who were attacked by 
a violent disease ; the symptoms were 
those which result from copper poison- 
ing. On inquiry, it was found that 
every utensil in the kitchen and dairy 
was made of copper. — From an article 
htf F. B. Barff. 

How TO COOK Tough Poultbt. — 
Madame Miau is, what may be called, 
an Anglo-French authority on culinary 
operations. At least she was bom in 
England, educated in France, went 
back to England, studied, talked, 
cooked, and ate a great deal in both 
eooatries. A friend in extremity once 
asked her, what she could do with ^^ a 
miserable half-starved chicken that the 
dogs had killed?" Her answer was 
prompt, and encouraging to those mis- 
tmstful people who are compelled to 
dise in doubtful eating houses. '^ Truss 
it neatly," Madame Miau replied, 
*^ stuff it with sausage and bread 
erambs; mix some flour and butter, 
taking due care it does not color in 
lite pan, for it must be a white rout ; 
plump your chicken in this, and add 
a little water, or soup if you have it." 
We are told besides to put carrots cut 
ia half, tops of celery, chives, bay leaf, 
parsley, etc., then ^^ cover dose, so that 
all air may be excluded, and keep it 
aimmering two hours and a quarter ; 

it wiU turn out white and plump ; place 
the vegetables round it, stir in an ^^ 
to thicken the sauce, off the fire, and 
your dish will make you blush." With- 
out actually snatching half-starved 
chickens from the mouths of dogs, 
might not Madame Mian's instruction 
render many a tough old bird palat- 
able ? 

How TO COOK Vegetables. — It is 
observed that a meal from vegetables 
is not satiBfying. I have found it fre- 
quently happen that the persons who 
thus objected, did not know even how 
to boil a vegetable. The rule is simple, 
but must never be forgotten. Every 
kind of vegetable intended to be served 
whole should, when put to boil, be 
placed at once in boiling water; and 
this applies especially to potatoes, and 
vegetables from which the outer cover 
has been removed. -Now it often hap- 
pens that potatoes, etc., are, to save 
time, placed in cold water and left 
to boU gradually. It is just this 
which allows the nutritious matter to 
escape, and renders the meal unsatis- 
fying. When, on the contrary, the 
water boils from the moment the veg- 
etable is immersed in it, the albumen is 
partially coagulated near the surface, 
and serves to retain the virtue of the 
vegetable. The reverse is, of course, 
the rule for making soup, or any dish 
from which the water will not be 
drained. By placing the vegetables in 
cold water the album6n is slowly dis- 
solved, and actually mixes with the 
water — a process most necessary for 
the production of nutritious soup. It 
is to be hoped that those who have a 
special need for the most their money 
can produce, will learn, in whatever 
haste they may be, not to boil aU the 
albumen from their potatoes, resei*ving 
fox^ their meal only the starchy matter. 

CoNSUMPnoK. — Prof. Virchow con- 
cedes, as far as the children of con- 
sumptive parents are concerned, that 
the complaint, is not invariably trans- 
mitted to them, b\it are almost always 
delicate ; and if they keep clear from 
phthisis themselves, may transfiiit the 
predisposing tendency of it to their 





THE iDcrease of near-sightedness 
among the American people is not 
due so much to physical degeneracy, as 
some cheerful philosophers would have 
us suppose, as to overwork. The aver- 
age American citizen is sent to school 
too early, studies too many hours, and 
gives himself little recreation even in 
childhood. With his hurried school 
days over, at the age of sixteen or 
seventeen he rushes into business and 
strains every nerve, working early and 
late to get what is known as a ^' start." 
Once started, and fairly in the busi- 
ness, he continues there until old age 
or bodily infirmity compels him to give 
place to others equally unsparing of 
health and energy in business pur- 

In all this fevered haste and ever-to- 
be-admired energy, overtasking body 
and mind, no organ of the body is more 
severely taxed than the human eye. The 
mind may go a-pleasuring with the 
body, but the eye knows little rest. 
The most determinedly idle man must 
read the daily paper, the last new novel, 
or very likely a ^^ diamond edition'* 
of some popular author. Whether 
business or pleasure engrosses the mind, 
the eye, in this age of cheap literature, 
must be ever at work. Manifold op- 
tical defects — of which one of the 
most prominent is near-sightedness, re- 
sult in too many instances from this 
constant tax upon our sight. What, 
then, is the trouble with the eye in 
near-sightedness, short-sightedness, or 
myopia, — for they are all the same ? 
Simply an inability to see distant 
objects distinctly, any object being 
termed distanty — rather arbitrarily, it 
must be confessed, — when more than 
five feet away. When you look at 
this page several zones or belts of more 
or less distinct vision lie in front of 
the eye, all of which may be easily 
defined. If the page is brou^t nearer 
than ten inches, presupposing that you 
have brdinary powers of vision, the 
forms of the letters grow indistinct, 
and are only to be seen by a conscious 

effort. If, on the other hand, you re- 
move it more than four or five feet, the 
letters again become obscure, and 
fade away into dim air. The dinnin- 
ions of the eye may be mapped out, then, 
something like this : first, a space of 
about ten inches in which the eye sees 
indistinctly from its very nearness; 
second, a space commencing at tho 
outer boundary of the first — at what 
is technically termed the '' near" point, 
and extending four or five feet, to a 
limit known as the '^far" point of vis- 
ion ; this forms the territory of dis- 
tinct vision; and finally, the whole 
region beyond this constituting a terra 
incognita^ as far as objects no larger 
than these letters are concerned. Sim- 
ilar boundaries could be assigned to 
our perception of larger objects, rela- 
tively greater in extent, to be sure, 
but each having its zone of distinct, 
indistinct, and impossible vision, not- 
withstanding. All clear, useful vision, 
therefore, must take place between 
the "near" and "far" points above 
mentioned. In the visual field of the 
near-lighted eye these different zones 
are just as well marked as in thefo^ 
mer case, but are brought much nearer 
the eye. With type of this size the 
zone of indistinct vision may be only 
four or five inches across ; that of dis- 
tinct sight, five or six inches more, 
while all beyond is wnapped in dark- 
ness. In a near-sighted eye, then, the 
"near" point is placed very near the 
eye, and the " far " point not very for 
removed, while the region of no-vision 
beyond is very much increased. Hence 
comes the necessity which near-sighted 
people have of getting themselves very 
near any object they wish to see. ff 
the unfortunate victim of this defect 
be a boy at school, he scandalizes bis 
teacher by his wretched habit of stoop- 
ing over his desk, furnishing the coun- 
terpart of that illustration which used 
to adorn the pages of an elementary 
work on Physiology, designed to show 
the pernicious effects upon heart, lungs, 
spine, and stomach, of improper posi- 



tioQ while at study. I wonder if that 
picture is still retained portraying a 
youth emaciated in the extreme, with 
stooping shoulders, flattened chest, pro- 
trading chin, and neck of swan-likd 
length and flexibility? How ridicu- 
lous a figure he cuts compared with the 
round-chested, rosy-cheeked, erect, 
luoidsome youth on the opposite page, 
who evidently had no such depraved 
habita about him. That this unfortu- 
nate youth was near-sighted I haven't 
a doubt, — with such life-like reality is 
he drawn. 

Near-sightedness does not necessarily 
depend upon any defect of vision itself, 
— the eye seemg everything perfectly 
well, provided objects be brought near 
eaou^. The fault is in the construc- 
tion of the eye, and is due to a want of 
proportion between the diflerent parts, 
as will be seen farther on. 

It was once supposed by scientific 
men, and the belief is still a popular 
one, that this defect depended on ex- 
cessive roundness of the eye, just as the 
&r-sightedness of old age was thought 
to be due to an unnatural flattening. 
Both of these time-honored notions 
have been of late overturned by certain 
meddlesome men, who, having little 
regard for plausible theories, have 
shown by actual measurements that no 
audi roundness or flatness exists. With- 
out going into the hidden mysteries of 
refiivbction and accommodation, it will 
be sufi&cient to say that near-sightedness 
is due to an elongation of the eyeball, 
whereby the retina, — that nervous ex- 
pansion which receives all images 
formed in the eye, and conveys them 
through the optic nerve to the brain, — 
this retina, I repeat, is situated so far 
behind its usual position, that only the 
images of objects near the eye are 
formed upon it. The eye, instead of 
being three-fourths of an inch in length, 
becomes an inch, or even an inch and 
a half, from front to rear. How is such 
a change of shape brought about? Some- 
times it is hereditary, but more often 
the result of injudicious use in early 
life, when the tissues of the eye are 
aoHand yielding, unable to withstand 
pressure. When the defect is heredi- 
tary it is generally due to an imperfect 

VOL. II. — 5 

development, or arrest of development 
of those outside structures surrounding 
the more dehcate parts within the eye. 
If such an eye be now forced to do 
constant duty, being fixed upon objects 
near at hand, the muscles which con- 
trol its movements will pull upon it 
from opposite directions, tending to 
lengthen it at its weakest point, which 
is always at the back of the eye. K, 
in addition to this, a stooping posture 
cause pressure to be made upon the 
vessels returning blood from the eye, 
an unnatural distension will result pro- 
ducing pressure from within, thus in- 
creasing the tension of its already 
weakened coats. By these means the 
lengthening out of the eyeball, and con- 
sequent increase of near-sightedness, 
will go on together, until the tissues 
acquire the firmness of adult life, and 
are able to resist farther pressure. 
Although its progress may thus be 
checked, the condition is permanent 
when once established. Hence the 
folly of supposing that near-sightedness 
wiU disappear as age advances. In 
those exceedingly rare cases, only when 
it is due to excessive refraction, is there 
any prospect that old age will produce 
any amelioration of the defect. 

The only remedy is in the use of 
concave glasses, which arp of ser- 
vice because they prevent the rays of 
light which enter the eye frpm coming 
together to form an image before they 
reach the retina — as they would other- 
wise do. They simply cause the images 
of objects to be formed farther back in 
the eye, so that they may fall upon the 
retina. Thus they give a view of dis- 
tant objects, although they diminish 
somewhat their size. 

Many near-sighted people are averse 
to using these crutches for the halting 
eye, from an erroneous notion that 
permanent injury to the eye will result 
from their use. Such is rarely the 
case ; while, on the other hand, very 
often irremediable harm is done to the 
eye by delay in putting them on. In 
slight degrees of myopia they generally 
need not be used. But if it be discov- 
ered that the eye is getting more myopic 
without them, if those uncomfortable 
sensations arise denoting an over- 



tasking of the eye, then they should be 
at once assumed. Grenerally, however, 
in these cases maeh benefit will arise from 
systematic exercise of the eye in look- 
ing at objects a long way ofi^, and what 
is even more important, by abstaining 
from every occupation, whether study 
or otherwise, requiring excessive use 
of the eye for short distances. The 
keenness of vision enjoyed by the sail- 
or or the Indian upon our Western 
plains, proves how the eye may be 
strengthened by the right sort of use. 
That rare old astronomer, Tycho Brahe, 
l3ring fiat on his back in his island ob- 
servatory in the Baltic, and studying 
the movements of the constellations 
with his own unaided eye, teaches 
us a notable lesson in the capacities 
for vision existing in every eye, only 
to be developed by such systematic 
training. All moderately near-sighted 
people, therefore, should not fail to 
make diligent trial of these disci- 
plinary measures. But suppose the 
degree of imperfection of vision al- 
ready so great as to preclude their use, 
it is manifestly absurd to think of train- 
ing an eye for distant vision with any 
hope of satisfactory results, when it 
can scarcely see the width of a narrow 
street. And yet if such an eye be 
left to itself, it must progress from bad 
to worse. The effort which it makes 
to obtain distinct, sharp vision, produces 
universal pressure upon its coats by the 
action of the above-mentioned muscles, 
resulting, at last, in a protrusion of the 
posterior part of the eyeball. This in 
its turn interferes with a proper per- 
formance of the functions of the retina, 
and thus the two conditions react upon 
each other, much to the detriment of 
vision. All this is prevented by use of the 
proper glasses, which take away all ne- 
cessity for overstraining the eye, even 
in looking at minute objects. Such 
glasses should be of as low power as 
will give distinct vision, and as a gen- 
eral rule should be worn constantly, 
the latter injunction being generally 
superfiuous to the wearer who has once 
learned their virtues ; for they open a 
new world to him, of whose existence 
he scarcely dreamed. He learns, by 
their kindly aid, to recognize the friends 

he unwittingly used to pass in the 
streets; to know the countenance of 
public speakers in the pulpit or on the 
rostrum, when before he only saw dim , 
outlines ; to appreciate the beauties of 
a landscape spread out before him; 
without them the face of nature, to his 
view, consists of a few objects standing 
out of the general gloOm with more or 
less distinctness, but all beyond and 
around is wrapped in misty darkness ; 
with glasses he is brought out of fog and 
darkness into pure sunlight. 

The majority of near-sifted pe<^le 
need not, although in all probability they 
will, go on step by step to the alternatives 
of spectacles or no sight. If proper 
projjiylactic measures were taken in 
childhood, foi^ then the mischief is gen- 
erally done, its progress might easily 
be prevented. A child manifesting 
any symptoms of myopia should never 
be compelled to sit at a low desk, nor 
to study from a book whose iyi^ is not 
fresh and clear, nor to use the eyes for 
a long time continuously, especially by 
artificial or imperfect lights. S<Hne 
figures recently published in Germany 
show pretty clearly that the seeds ctf 
the rich harvest which spectacle mak- 
ers are destined to reap, are sown in 
eariy youth. From them we learn that 
in the public schools the percentage of 
near-sighted scholars increases from one 
in a hundred in the primary schools op 
to 10 in the intermediate, and 21 in the 
gymnastic and pol3rtechnic schools. 
Thus prophylactic procedures should 
therefore be persevered in, until adult 
life brings firmness and stamina to the 
eye as well as to other parts of the 

Near-sightedness, for the reasons 
stated in the beginning, is pre-eminently 
a defect belonging to civilized life, and 
is much more common an^ong those en- 
gaged in study, or in some of those 
mechanical pursuits requiring close 
attention, as engraving, watch-makii^, 
and the like. 

Literary men are especially liable %o 
become near-sighted. Samuel Johnson, 
diving with bis fingers into the various 
dishes at dinner with a view to ascer- 
tain the nature of their contents, 
(^nUing his food up and down his waiiit- 



coat, and rudely jostling those in the 
street whom he failed to see in time to 
aToid, was eridentlj not fiur from it. 

Neither was Thackeraj nor Char^ 
lolte Bronte, nor Fredrika Bcemer, nor 


is Hans Christian Andersen, nor Wil* 
kie Collins, nor ^^ George Miot," nor 
many others whose names are house- 
hold words throughout two eontments. 


FBOM a pair of scissors upwards 
to the System of the Universe, 
erery agency, moral or physical, seems 
to be compounded of two antagonistic 
forces, controllable and performing cor- 
rectly the duties assigned to them as 
kmg as they work in unison ; but un- 
eontroDable, and prone td run into ex- 
cess of their functions, if separated 
from each other. 

Take away the force oi gravity, and 
centrifugal force uncontrolled would 
scatter us in fine dost through space. 
Abolish one of the constituent parts of 
any well-organized government, and the 
pSCTk, in a moral sense, would prob- 
ably be pretty mudi the tame. Even 
the blade of a pair of scissors wim't 
work without its fellow. Nor is the 
brain an exception to this rule. An 
ei^eat philosopher (Dr. Richardson), 
6t31 living, in experimenting recently 
m animals, with the object of testing 
the comparative value of various anaes- 
thetics, discovered that at least two 
antagonistic forces reside in the brain : 
one having its abode in the anterior and 
^iper portion (the cerebrum), the other 
in the lower and posterior part (the 
cerebeUum). In his expmments, he 
observed that if the cerebrum &[ an 
aninud be rendered insensible, and its 
powers thus temporarily destroyed, 
the animal is immediately impelled to 
rush forward ; on the other hand, the 
cerebellum being paralyzed, retrograde 
movement is the result. Thus he ac- 
ommts for that impulse which many 
people feel to precipitate themselves 
from a height! the cerebrum, which 
contains the thinking and directing 
faouldes, under such circumstances be- 
comiag paralyzed — dizsy — • and so the 
GOBtrol which it normally exerdsea 
over the cerebellum being partially re* 

moved, the influence of the latter de- 
clares itself.' 

The learned profeasor having opened 
the gate for us, wo may walk in and 
observe for ours^ves. Many things 
come to our recollection which we can 
now account for by this double brain 
force. We can comprehend why that 
partridge dashed nuuily f(H*ward after 
the fatal charge struck him ; and why 
the other, although flying at the same 
speed, fell back in the air like a tumblav 
pigeon, fluttering still backward to Uie 
ground. K we take up the one, we 
find a grain of shot has pierced the 
skull a little above the eyes ; and we 
see the deathrwound of the other at the 
back of the head. We can now under- 
stand why those overcome with fri^t 
so frequently rush into the danger they 
wish to avoid. Nor need we confine 
ourselves to examples of a purely phy- 
sical nature. We may place in the 
same category the bashful man who 
talks nonsense when he should hold his 
tongue ; the awkward man, who oxAj 
is awkward because he is nervous — 
the directing power of his brain ia in 
abeyance — and the passionate man, 
whose words and actions are uncon- 
trolled by his reasoning powers. In a 
word, we can trace half our foolish 
words and actions to a want of equili- 
brium between these two forces that 
inhabit our brains, and it is only when 
the balance is correct that we are fit 
to govern ourselves. 

Presence of mind is the popular term 
to express this mental equilibrium. 

The question has been frequently 
discussed in social drdes whether often 
or women are most prone to lose their 
presence of mind. Lucy, just seven- 
teen, says: ^^Oh, men, to be sure. 
Why, self-posaeesioD is an attribute 

-■» *- 



almost peculiar to women; a young 
girl entering society is quite at her 
ease, while a young man is sure to be 
awkward and nervous. See how we 
get out of a scrape : never at a loss for 
an answer. A man would stutter and 
mutter, and get deeper into the mire." 
" Yes, but," says Tom, who is just home 
'from school, and not much troubled 
with nerves — "just look at you giris 
how you scream ; if your life depended 
on silence, you'd betray yourselves by 
a scream." Then the ladies reply: 
" Oh, we don't pretend to be as brave 
as men." And so the question remains 
unsettled. Lucy, no doubt, is correct, 
nor is Tom less so. Perhaps the fair- 
est arrangement would be to grant 
the weaker sex pre-eminence in the 
absence of physical danger ; and yet, 
on the other hand, instances of calm 
thought and deliberate action of women 
under trying circumstances are so nu- 
merous, that they can scarcely be held as 
merely exceptions to the rule. Amongst 
the tales of shipwrecks are recorded 
noble instances of presence of mind 
amongst women in the most appalling 
•danger. What could be more heroic, 
for instance, than the conduct of the 
women on board the ill-fated London f 
indeed, it is generally in circumstances 
lof comparatively trifling peril that the 
balance of the female mind is disturbed 
-wlien, as Tom says, they shriek. 

The following story, exemplifying 
remarkable presence of mind in an old 
lady, has never been in print. It is 

perfectly true. This old lady But 

stay, she shall tell the tale herself, as 
she used to tell it to me, her little 

" You know, my dear, I was living 
in the country at the time, my little 
grand-daughter being my only compan- 
ion. We had two female servants and 
a man-servant, but he did not sleep in 
the house, but in a loft over the stable. 
One night, late in the autumn, I went 
up to bed at my usual hour — nine 
o'clock. I was early^ you see, for 
Fanny was only seven years old, and 
I did not care to sit up alone after she 
was in bed ; besides, by the time I had 
read my chapter, and said my prayers, 
and undressed myself, it was fully ten 

o'clock. Well, on this particular night, 
I went up as usual. I first undressed 
the child, and put her into bed ; then 
I made myself comfortable, and got 
my Bible, and sat by the fire — it was 
very cold for the season, and I kept a 
fire in my room — and af^er I had fin- 
ished my chapter, I knelt down to my 
prayers: my position as I knelt was 
with my back to the fire, and my face 
toward the bed. I had scarcely got 
on my knees, when I caught sight of 
something unusual under the bed ; on 
looking more attentively, I could see 
that it was a man's foot. My first im- 
pulse was to scream, but fortunately I 
restrained myself; and the first shock 
over, I was able to think. I had no 
doubt that it' was a robber, and that if 
he found that he was discovered, he 
might not stop short of murder. I dared 
not go to bed, and pretend I did not 
know he was there; and yet, how 
to get the child and myself out of the 
room without exciting suspicion, I 
could not imf^ine. These thoughts 
passed through my mind in half the 
time I have taken to tell you ; and I 
was about to rise from my knees, 
when I suddenly recollected that my 
doing so at once might in itself excite 
suspicion ; for aught I knew, it might 
be some one who knew my habits, per- 
haps even my own man-servant, thon^ 
I had no reason to suspect him. At 
all events, I determined to remain 
some time longer, as if engaged in my 
devotions. I need not teU you that I 
could not give much heed to my 
prayers, but I did ask for protection 
and guidance. Yon know, dear, that 
I am a slow, methodical old woman, 
and that I seldom get through my 
prayers in less than a quarter of an 
hour, so I now determined not to stir 
for at least ten minutes. What an age 
those ten minutes seemed! I never 
took my eyes off the foot until just be* 
fore I arose, when it was slowly with- 
drawn out of my sight. When I saw 
it move, I felt faint with fright, for I 
feared lest the man had suspected, and 
was going to come out ; however, he 
remained quiet, and then I got up 
from my knees. The next thing to 
be done was to get the child out of bed 



without causing any alarm. Speaking 
as calmly as I was able, I asked her if 
she were awake; she luiswered in 
rather a sleepy tone, bnt aroused her- 
sdf as I continued speaking. '^Fanny, 
dear/' I said, '^ I have left my keys 
below stairs" — I felt a little uneasy 
at the falsehood, but I hope it was not 
wrong — ^^ and I cannot undress with- 
out them : I don't like going down by 
myself; would you mind getting up, 
my love, and coming with me?" She 
jumped out of bed in a moment, and, 
having wrapped a shawl round her, I 
pushed her bef<Nre me; then, when 
opening the door, I managed to take 
out the key and put it in on the other 
side. I then shut the door, and locked 
it; and then, my dear, I could no 
longer control myself — I shrieked 
several times at the t(^ of my voice, 
and fainted. A^r all, poor Joseph, 
the coachman, was £Eiithful, for one of 
the maids called him in, and, armed 
with a pitchfork, he secured the rob- 
ber, who was trying to get out of the 

Here was an instance of retention 
of presence of mind in the face of ap- 
parent danger, and the loss of self-con- 
trol when the danger had passed. 
Habit has much to do in the preservation 
of thecerebral equilibrium, as we aee, for 
mstanee, in the sailor who goes alofl 
without feeling any inclination to come 
down ** by the run," and in the matador 
in the bull-ring, whose fate depends on 
his coolness. Education, also, no 
doubt, assists in keeping the brain in 
order. Tet here again, we have nu- 
merous instances of presence of mind 
iQ the humbler and less educated ranks 
m life. One example — also a true 

glory — will suffice. Caroline G , 

a good-looking, finely proportioned 
young girl, lived as laid/s maid with 
a fashionable widow, rather poiue. 
One evening, after having assisted 
at her mistressi's toilet for a diauer- 
party, she amused herself, before put- 
ting away the various articles scat- 
tei«d about the room, in trying on a 
pair of silk stockings and dress shoes 
belonging to her mistress, and, having 
done so, she viewed her well-turned 
Hmbs with complacency, saying aloud ; 

''There's a leg for a stocking, and 
there's a foot for a shoe." Having 
satisfied herself as to their symmetry, 
she divested herself of her borrowed 
•plumes, put the room to rights, and 
awaited the return of her mistress, 
whom she saw into bed. That was 
the last time she saw her alive. She 
was found in the morning murdered 
iu her bed, the jewel-case and plate- 
chest broken open and robbed. The 
robber and murderer had left no 
trace by which he could be captured, 
and in spite of the most diligent 
search, escaped. Three years aAer, 
Caroline was engaged in a similar 
capacity by a lady who took her to 
Paris. She had almost forgotten the 
murder, and, if she thought of it, it 
was not with any hope of discovering 
the criminal. It happened that she 
was walking in one of the public prom- 
enades one afternoon, when, as she 
passed a group of men, she lieard these 
words : " There's a leg for a stocking, 
and there's a foot for a shoe." In a 
moment the events of the evening be- 
fore her mistress was murdered flashed 
on her memory. And now for her 
marvellous presence of mind. Pretend- 
ing not to have heard anything, she 
glanced sideways at the group of men. 
She saw there were three, but she could 
not tell which of them had spoken. 
She walked slowly past them, then she 
stopped in an undecided manner, and 
finally turned back, and, walkiug up to 
them, she asked to be directed to a cer- 
tain street. As she expected, all of 
them had a word for her, and amongst 
the voices she easily recognized the one 
that had just spoken. Their language 
cmd looks were both very free, but she 
only told them that they were very im- 
pertinent, and that she would get the 
information she wanted from the first 
gendarme. She thus averted suspicion 
if they watched her speaking to a 
policeman. . The next difficulty was 
how to inform a gendarme what she 
wanted : she had been only a fortnight 
in France, and scarcely Imew a word 
of French. She, however, carried a 
pocket-dictionary with her, to assist her 
in making purdiases, and as a means 
of acquiring a little French. Going 



over to a bench, fihe sat down, and, 
searching through the dictionary, found 
the words she wanted, and she then 
wrote them with a pencil in the fly4ei^ 
of the dictionary. The sentence ran 
thus : Gendarme^ je avoir besoin vaus 
arrSter un meurtrier. The grammar 
was not very correct, as dictionaries do 
not teach syntax, but the gendarme 
understood it, and in another minute 
held the murderer in his grasp. He 
was afterwards convicted, and hung on 
the girl's testimony. 

In this example we observe a kind 
of presence of mind not usual in the 
female sex. First, there was the 'nat- 
ural impulse to express astonishment, 
subdued the moment it was felt, and 
then the rapid concentration of thought 
in conceiving a. stratagem. In such a 
case as that of Caroline G , ninety- 
nine women in a hundred would have 
betrayed themselves by an " Oh ! " or 
a little scream. 

Intimately connected with the reten- 
tion or loss of presence of mind are 
those conditions of the nervous system 
which constitute bravery and cow- 
ardice. As a rule, a coward loses 
presence of mind, whilst a brave man 
retains it; yet it often occurs that 
apparent cowardice is the result of 
loss of mental equilibrium in an indi- 
vidual naturally courageous. At the 
same time, those circumstances which 
demand the necessity for presence of 
mind are not necessarily tests for 
either courage or the reverse. 

The field of battle gives us instances 
of every possible effect of danger or sur- 
prise on differently constituted brains. 
The bravest and coolest are those who 
realize the danger, and yet are as calm 
as those fortunate individuals to whom 
fear is unknown. There is a well- 
known story of a subaltern accusing 
his colonel of fear on an occasion of 
approaching danger. "Yes," replied 
the colonel, as he rode steadily on ; 
"if you were half as much afraid, 
you would run away." Whether such 
would be the result of fear on the 
subaltern would depend upon the for- 
mation of his brain. Innate, sordid, 
reasoning cowardice would no doubt 
cause its victim to shrink from ap- 

proaching danger ; but the oowardiee, 
if it can so be called, caosed by par- 
alysis of the thinking faculties in ex- 
cessive dan^r, generally nrges the 
subject of it onwards. Mental de- 
pression from any cause frequently 
induces this mad courage, and that too 
in men constitutionally calm* The fol- 
lowing story was rehvted to the writer 
by an officer in the Austrian army : 

" The bugle-call had sounded, and in 
five minutes every man was in his 
saddle except B • 

" *' He must be dead, or so sick that 
he can't crawl,' observed an old 

major: *I never knewB behind 

when there was fighting in front.' 

" Neither had I ; and I agreed with 
the major that it must be some phy- 
sical incapability that prevented plucky 
B — -— , as he was called in his regi- 
ment, from answering to a fighting 
bugle-call. I volunteered to ride round 
to his quarters, to ascertain what had 
become of him, and^ accompanied by 
a cornet and a junior captain, I pro- 
ceeded thither. We found B 

sitting at his camp-table, his head rest- 
ing between his hands, looking as pale 
as death. 

"'HoUo,B 1 In a panic?' ex- 
claimed the comet. 

" ' Nonsense, you yonng fool,' I said ; 
^ he has* plu<^ enoiigh in his little 

finger for your whole carcass. 

What's wrong, B ? * 

"*F is right,' he repUed: *I 

am in a panic. My time is come, and 
I shall leave my wife and little child 
to beggary, and worse.' (He had 
married in opposition to his father's 

*' * Rubbish,' said D , the captain 

trying to laugh him out of such an 
extraordinary state of mind. ' You'll 
bring them another clasp yet; and, 
by Jove I if you fall, I'll provide for 

them.* D was an Englishman, 

who, like myself, had entered the 
Austrian service ; he was the son of 
a nobleman, and was very well off. 

" * Do you mean it? ' said B-p , 

starting up, with a wild expression 
darting through his eyes. 

•* ' I do, by Jove ! ' replied D . 

^ I'll settle a captain's pay oq them for 



life ; but I don't expect to have to do 
80, old fellow ; you'll take care of them 

^^ A few words of explanation, and 
a repetition of his promise on the 

part of D , and B buckled 

on his sword, and in another minute 
he was on his charger. Half an hour 
afterwards, we were engaged with the 

enemy. I kept my eye on B . 

He was always brave; but now he 
was mad. His courage had been 
always characterized by extreme cool- 
ness, never courting, although never 
shrinking from danger, but now ho 
roahed on his death — and he foand 
it. Ten minutes from the time the 
first shot was fired, he was a corpse, 
transfixed by a dozen bayonet-wounds. 
D fulfilled his promise." 

The impression on the brain, and 
its results in the action of the indi- 
Tidaal, vary considerably with the source 
of dan^r. Thus, a fear of drowning 
invariably destroys presence of mind ; 
the brave man and the coward equally 
firamtically and ineffectually struggling 
tor life; and yet, under no circnm- 
siances, can presence of mind be of 
more avail than in the effort to keep 
the head above water, there being no 
art in swimming. Every scientific 
man ought to be able to swim the first 
time of entering the water, and would, 
if he had presence of mind. Fire also 
has a peculiarly paralyzing effect, but 
not so general as the fear of drown- 

We are told that the sensations ex- 
perienced by those who have been 
seized by the larger Feline are very 
remarkable — a calmness almost so- 
porific, without fear, yet the intellect 
remaining clear, and ready to take 
advantage of any chance of escape. 
Such has been the experience of Liv- 
ingstone and many others, as we read 
in books of African adventure. In 
one instance (not published), an 
officer in India being seized by a 
wounded tiger, held his breath, to 
feign death. " But," he says, " I felt 
wide awake, though withal a calm 
sensation stealing over me. By-and- 
by, I cautiously drew my hunting- 
knife, and fixed its point o|^>osite the 

brute's heart : I was going to set my 
life on a venture. I knew that he 
would never leave go until he killed 
me, and if I missed my stroke, I only 
hastened my fate by a few minutes. 
Drawing a long breath, and grasping 
the knife with both hands, I plunged 
it to the hilt in his chest. It was 
a terrible game ; but I won. The 
tig«r fell back dead, with scarcely a 
struggle : I had ahnost cut his heart 
in two." 

The question naturally presents itself 
to us: Seeing the advantages to bo 
gained by the retention of presence of 
mind, is it possible to be acquired? 
The answer may safely be : Certainly 
practice and education tend to preserve 
the equilibrium of the brain, which 
constitutes presence of mind. The 
sailor, the rope-walker, the sportsman, 
the diplomatist, are all examples of 
presence of mind induced by training. 
But, it may be justly objected, presence 
of mind is refdly only needed in sud- 
den emergencies, which it is in^osslble 
to educate for. Yes, that is true ; but 
calnmess and. deliberation once estab- 
lished as a habit, become constitutional, 
and respond under all circumstanoes 
when required. It therefore behooves 
us, in the most trifiing as well as the 
most importimt actions, to act, think, 
and speak calmly, and with deliber- 
ation, to do nothing in a hurry or 
flurry, and, above all, to keep our 

The Prsservation of Milk. — To 
every \^ pints (5 oz.) of unskimmed 
milk, .previously poured into a well- 
annealed glass bottle, add about 6 
grains of bicarbonate of soda. Place 
the bottle (which must be well corked) 
containing the milk for about four 
hours in a water-bath, heated to 194^ 
Fahrenheit. On being taken out, the 
bottle is varnished over with tar ; and, 
in that state, the milk contained in it 
will keep sound and sweet for several 
weeks. ■ 

Febsoms who are instmcted in the for- 
mation and functions of their own bodies, 
and are taaght the efficience of therapeutics, 
will both bear their sickness with a less per- 
turbed spirit, and discriminate more justly 
between the ignorant and skilled physician. 




By Cari. Both. 

THE chemical combinations, ex- 
changes and reactions of the 
fourteen elementary minerals compos- 
ing the human body in connection 
with warmth, light, electricity, gal- 
vanism and magnetism, constitute what 
we call life. To support and main- 
tain this life we arc obliged to refur- 
nish the material for respiration, and 
replenish the body with these elements 
as soon as they become used or appro- 
priated. The only substance which 
we supply as such is oxygen — all the 
others being supplied in previously 
formed combinations. Next to oxygen 
the principal element is carbon. The 
combination of oxygen with carbon 
in our body sustains life. After hav- 
ing combined, they both leave the body 
again in the form of carbonic acid, 
which now is not only useless, but one of 
the worst of poisons for the organism. 
Theoretically it might be supposed 
that carbon could be received and 
appropriated as such in the body, but 
such is not the fact ; for not an atom 
of carbon ever enters the body for cotn- 
htution except in organic combinations. 
We can, of course, introduce carbon 
into the blood in an inorganic form or 
combination, but only as a poison, or 
as an absolutely indifferent complica- 
tion, and never as a life-sustaining 
material. We therefore come to the 
logical conclusion, that the same prin- 
ciple holds good in reference to all 
the other elements ; that when any 
one of them is intended for organic 
metamorphosis in our body, it must 
be given in organic combination. 

On the other hand, when one or sev- 
eral of these elements, as such, may 
be required for serving a purpose in 
the human enconomy, but not for 
decomposition, they can be taken in 
inorganic form; fo? example, water, 
salt, and all soluble matter given as 
medicines, or for other purposes, and 
may enter the blood, but will leave it 
again as such. 

This is the theory on assimilatioQ 
the writer has arrived at from the fol- 
lowing facts and circumstances : — 

It has been, and is still, generally 
believed, that iron, when given inter- 
nally, becomes assimilated and causes 
the formation of haematin and red blood- 
globules ; and for this purpose is contin- 
ued in daily use, partly as a tonic, and 
I^rtly as a blood-forming substance. 
Science, however, has given the clearest 
evidence that iron has nothing at all to do 
with the color of the blood, and that it 
has no relation whatever, not even the 
remotest, to the formation of blood- 
globules. Oesterien (Heilmittel-lehre, 
1861, page 134) says, "That very min- 
ute quantities of soluble iron-albumin- 
ates become absorbed, but few doubt ; 
but this little, from iron preparations, 
absorbed iron seems to leave the bodj 
again inunediately through the urme 
and other secretions ; it does not become 
assimilated, that is, it does not enter 
the chemical complex of atoms of or- 
ganic substances.'' Neither chemistiy 
or physiology has thus far been able to 
say in what forms iron appears in the 
body. Medical experience has shown 
that iron has never been useful in the 
slightest degree in cases of blood-pov- 
erty, but, on the contrary, has, if any- 
thing, proved an injury to the patient. 

The wonderful stories sometimes re- 
ported by physicians about the effects 
of iron, can be easily reduced to cred- 
ulity and the imagination, — the sources 
from which the astonishing qualities 
of the sweet quinine (a complete 
hoax), etc., have found their admirers. 
If iron be introduced into the circula- 
tion in any pharmaceutical form, it can 
only act as an astringent to the blood- 
vessels; or when given in sufficient 
quantity, cause coagulation of fibrin and 
serious harm. In no instance has it 
been shown by chemistry or physidc^ 
that iron posesses the merits claimed for 
it; the simple fact only having been 
shown that iron is contained in the 




blood-globules, and that it may be found 
almost anywhere in the body. My 
own view is, that the iron serves prin- 
cipally as a necessary body for the pro- 
duction of animal magnetism, and that 
it appears as metal, or perhaps as oxide, 
bat probably in a form as yet entirely 

In the difficulty known as Rachitis 
(Rickets), which usually appears- in 
pooriy-fed and ill-managed children, the 
Hme already deposited in the bones is 
reabsorbed, and thrown out of the body 
by the kidneys; the bones themselves 
becoming soft and cartilaginous. It 
was very naturally supposed that in 
this disease the body was in need of 
lime, and consequently lime was given 
in every possible form and manner, but 
to no effect except a bad one. An exami- 
nation of the urine of such children not 
only showed the entire amount of lime 
which had been given, but also an in- 
crease of the reabsorbed lime of the 
bones. But when lime was entirely 
discontinued, and fat, and good food 
were given, and the children brought 
under the influence of sunlight, the re- 
absorption of lime not only ceased, but 
the bones became hard again and the 
patient entirely well. From such facts 
it is clearly evident : 1. That the body 
does not and cannot appropriate lime, 
wh^ taken in an inorganic form. 2. 
That the body, especially the bone-cells , 
have the power of absorbing all the 
Hme that is necessary, and of appropri- 
ating it, when required, from our ordi- 
nary food. 

In speaking of sulphur, Oesterlen 
says, that ^^as an insoluble substance 
it effects little or nothing, except in 
large doses, when it acts as a mechanical 
irritant." Of phosphoric acid the same 
author says, that ^^ all specific curative 
effects of the kind described have also 
been found to be illusions. As in the 
Uood, phosphoric acid can never exist 
free, it can scarcely solve anything,-— as 
Hme or magnesia, and therefore, when 
given internally, cannot increase the 
fimnation of lime phosphates, bone- 
sobstance, etc., and consequently the 
bone substances in disease cannot be 
a£^ed by it. In fact the body has so 
Uttle need of phosphates, that large 

quantities are constantly thrown out by 
the urine. Good food, pure air, etc., in 
all such cases, will be found far more 
effective than any acid." Both sulphur 
and phosphorus, in combination with 
oxygen as acids, are extremely poison- 
ous, directly affecting and injuring the 
tissues. K given in diluted and venr 
small doses, they can become absorbed, 
immediately combining with some alkaH, 
to become directly excreted again by 
the kidneys. Neither physiology or 
chemistry has been able to show that 
any inorganic acid can be decomposed 
under any circumstances in the organ- 
ism; — but medical experience has 
shown that a continued use of them is 
hurtful for the blood fabrication. Upon 
analysis we find, as a matter of course, 
phosphorms only in its combinations 
with oxygen as acid — but why should 
this be evidence that the acid, as such, 
must become appropriated in the econ- 
omy? Because the body eliminates 
carbonic acid, does it prove that it 
^propriates it? Must it follow that 
because we find, on anali/sis^ an element 
in a certain form, that it must have 
entered the body as such ? From the 
fact that the animal organism tends in all 
its actions to higher oxydation, while 
the vegetable kingdom tends to reduc- 
tion, we have a strong reason for main- 
taining that all combinations, or mate- 
rial/or (unmUation and decompoBUum^ 
must enter the body in lower oxydations 
than we afterwards find them in the 
body. The statement that the ^^ soda " 
(we presume that sodium was intended) 
of the conmion salt should contribute 
to the phosphate of soda in the blood, 
because the phosphoric acid enters as 
phosphate of potassa, is new to the 
writer. If chloride of sodium (table 
salt) is to furnish the soda to the phos- 
phate of soda, water must necessarily 
become decomposed for this purpose. 
Phosphate of potassa is a neutral or 
slightiy acid, rather inactive salt, which 
does not decompose chloride of sodium, 
so far as known to the writer; and 
water is not decomposed in the organ- 
ism. To learn the particulars of the 
process referred to, would, however, be 
very interesting. 
Water in the organism serves only as 



a solvent, may "become formed^ or set 
free, bnt not decomposed, and leaves the 
body as water. The same is also true of 
common salt ; it does not become decom- 
posed, but leaves the body as such, serv- 
ing in the blood and system as an irritant 
on the living cell, and as counterbalance 
to the albumen in the blood ; and for this 
purpose, in cases of disease, stronger 
salts can be used to advantage with the 
intent to effect a quicker reaction and 
excretion ;-^for example, arsenic, mer- 
cury, iodine, etc., in their different 

Thus far chemistry and physiology 
have not shown in any instance that 
inorganic substances can become assim- 
ilated, that is, decomposed and appro- 
priated for cell formation and nutrition. 
If, however, it can be shown by experi- 
mental facts that such assimilation 
actually takes place, it will prove to be 
one of the greatest triumphs science 
has ever achieved; such discovery 
would not only make a now costly 
Uving very cheap, but would diange 
the whole life on the earth. Instead 
of raising costly vegetables and animals, 
we should, with the assistance of chem- 
istry, be able to transform coal, earth, 
etc., into appropriate and nutritious 
food, and the dreams of the old al- 
diemists would be more than realized. 

That fowls must get inorganic lime 
for the formation of the egg-shell, and 
for their health, is an undoubted fact. 
Lime serves a similar purpose in the 
fowl that salt does in the human body, 
and the digestive apparatus of the 
fowl is constructed for this purpose. 
But if, from this, the conclusion be 
drawn that other animals can digest 
such b'me as well as the fowl, it follows 
that a lion may live on grass, and that 
cows may be fed on. meat ; for the cow, 
which the lion devours, is formed en- 
tirely from grass ; and we find in meat, 
upon analysis, all the ingredients which 
go to make the cow. The vegetable 
kingdom absorbs inorganic substances 
directly, and it is probable that some 
species of the lower animals can do the 
same. The very wood we bum, the 
apples we eat, the wine we drink, and 
the oxygen we breathe, are formed 
from the very carbonic acid we exhale, 

by being reduced again to carbon and 
oxygen in the plants. As we aso^od 
in the animal kingdom, we find that 
each animal has a digestive appparatus 
of its own, which allows it to digest 
certain kinds o/food^ and no other. The 
digestive i^paratus of the human species 
exhibits the greatest range of all ani- 
mals, but it has its limits, nevertheless. 
The writer has spent a great deal of 
time, for the purpose of forcing the 
body to assimilate lime which the or- 
ganism uses to incapstdale and bury 
diseased cells in the body, that is, in 
cases of consumption, as observed by 
Bennett and Virchow, previous to the 
observations of the writer on the same 
subject. (See Bennett on Tuberculo^.) 
To accomplish his object he cannot 
give lime-water to drink, but is obliged 
to subject the body to a long-continued 
process by which indirectly the lin^ be- 
comes deposited in and around such 
diseased cells, thus rendering them 
harmless to the organism. Before he 
can think of introducing lime, he has 
first to call into exercise the power of 
appropriating it, by awakening the life 
of the slumbering and partly diseased 
cells around the dead ones ; to reorgan- 
ize the blood-circulation in the parts in 
question, and finally to furnish the body 
with the necessary Ume-containing food. 
But if a method could be discovered by 
which lime could be given directly ^ and 
directly be fnade to calcify these cells, 
it would exceed any discovery as yet 
made on the globe ; and the cure of a 
diseased lung could be as readily as- 
sured, and wiUiin as short a period, as 
the cure of a broken bone. But recent 
experience has again shown that the 
hypophosphites of lime and pota^, 
which were extensively used all over 
the globe, have had no more effect on 
the lung than so much glass-dust or 
gravel ; nor have their use shown any 
other beneficial effect. We think it 
safe to advance, that as impossible as 
it is to introduce new ideas into a brain 
that is not prepared to thinks or con- 
structed to digest such ideas, just as 
ioqKissible is it to introduce and have 
assimilated any kind of matter except 
such as the body is especially con- 
structed f(Hr, and adapted to appropriate. 



Iq regard to the generaUy held 
opmion Uiat a fish diet is beet suited 
for intellectuallj engaged persons, I am 
sorry to state that all raoe^on the globe 
who mostly or wholly lire on fish, are 
the most stapid of all* The idea first 
originated when phosphorus was found 
to form a constituent of the brain, and 
that phosphorus is also a substance con- 
tained largely in fish ; but there is no 
evidence, that for thinking, phoshoros is 
mcve necessary than sulphur, iron, or 
oxygen, etc. When wo shall have ar- 
riyed at such a point as to be able to 
discover a mode of diet which will 
make a fool wise, we may say that we 
hare reached the summit of science. 
There is at present, however, no pros- 

pect for anything of the kind to happen, 
yet it is worth while to keep the idea in 

In condasion, the writer would as- 
sert, that for the development of scieo- 
tific medicine this question of assimila- 
tion is a cardinal one, and that any 
further development of it is most de- 
sirable. So far, while we positively 
know that the body does appropriate 
minerals from organic combinations, 
and that we find aU necessary minerals 
in them, and while on the other hand 
there is only the bare possibility that U 
migiht make appropriations from inor- 
ganic matter, ^e former view is prefix- 
able to the latter in scientific medical 
practice and dietetics. 


Brick Tea. — The utilization of the 
refuse of the tea manufacture is a fea- 
ture in Chinese economy which well 
deserves attention ; and the admirable 
product resulting from it claims the 
atleotion of philanthropists. It is well 
known that, from the prolonged man- 
qralation which tea leaves undergo, a 
large percentage becomes much broken, 
or is redaced to powder, and thereby 
deteriorated in value. It may seem 
strange to many why tea dust and sift- 
ings should be considered as revise at 
aU, seeing they are still tea ; more es- 
pecially when, as a rule, they yield a 
stronger infusion than the finest and 
most perfectly curled leaves. When 
in the form of dust, its liability to adul- 
teration with sand or other heavy foreign 
substance is vastly increased ; and, as 
siflings, fannings, or broken leaf, an 
irresistible temptation is offered to the 
introduction of the broken leaves of 
other less valuable plants. Then again 
die darker infusion is usually obtained 
ofily at the first maceration, the boiling 
water so acting on the pulverized leaves 
that nearly their whole strength is ex- 
tracted at once ; whereas, with closely 
twisted leaves, a second, third, or some- 
times even a fourth infusion fails to de- 
prive them of all soluble material. 
Under such circumstances the Chmese 

merchant, in order to encourage busi- 
ness in good leaf, frequently sells his 
dust and siftings at a low figure, if not 
at a price under cost. But it happens 
that a vast quantity of refuse is pro- 
duced in a district of the Empire so 
remote from the " Treaty ports," where 
akme business can be profitably trans- 
acted with foreigners, that some other 
opening had to be discovered. Such 
an outlet the Chinese speedily found in 
the manufacture of brick tea for the 
Rossian market. 

This strange phase of the fragrant 
herb takes three forms : Large Green, 
Small Green, aAd Black Bricks. 

The large green variety is manufiu>- 
tured in the hiUy regions in the province 
of Hupeh, about' two hundred miles 
west of Hankow. It is fabricated out 
of the coarser leaves and upper twigs 
of the Thea vvride^^ to which are added 
much of the broken leaf and dust re- 
sulting from green tea manipulation* 
The mass is simply moistened by tte 
application of steam, then compressed 
in wooden moulds, having the chop of 
the manufacturer cut in relief on one of 
the inner surfaces. The bricks are 
then piled up in stacks protected from 
the sun and rain, but having a free cur- 
rent of air circulating through and 
around them. When quite diy, each 



brick is enveloped in paper ; thirty-six 
bricks, built into an oblong figure, are 
covered with dry fragrant leaves, and 
the whole matted over. Such packages 
are known as ^' baskets/' 

In color this form of tea exhibits a 
dusky green, and is now made to a 
lai^ extent by the Russian agents of 
the Kiachta merchants. Large green 
bricks measure 13 x 6^ z 1^ inches, the 
weight of the basket being about 83 
catties, or nearly 111 lbs. Avoirdupois. 

The Mongol buyer proves the sound- 
ness of his purchase by placing a brick 
upon his head and pulling the ex- 
tremities downwards with both hands ; 
should it neither yield nor break it is 
considered sound ; if it bends or firae- 
tores it is unhesitatingly tossed aside as 
worthless. OccasionaUy a similar test 
is practised over the bended knee. 

SmaU green brick tea is always 
superior to large, from the simple cir- 
cumstance that much greater care is 
bestowed on the selection of the mate- 
rials, and during the manufacture; 
consequently, it commands a higher 
price, although its fabrication is simi- 
larly conducted. The usual size of the 
bricks is 8^x5^xJ^ inches, and the 
principal emporiums for their distribu- 
tion are Eliachta, Chita, and Nerchinsk. 

Neither of these two forms of brick 
tea undergo fermentation. Black brick 
tea, named in Mongolia ^^ Dirintirroo," 
is made into cubes of the same size as 
small green. It consists of siflings, 
fannings, and the dust resulting from 
the preparation of Moning and Kaisow 
teas for the London market, with an 
admixture of Bohea and small twigs. 
Like small green, it is usually packed 
with 64 or 72 bricks in a basket, and 
is in request among the Tartars or 
Khirgis of Western Siberia. 

The commerce imtil within the last 
nine years, was wholly in the hands of 
the Chinese; but, forecasting events, 
and depending on the superiority of 
European to Asiatic manipulation, the 
Russian merchants of Kiachta boldly 
sent their own agents to Hupeh, who 
have not only succeeded in producing 
a better quality of tea, but have since 
then monopolized a considerable per^ 
centage of the brick tea trade. 

The Chinese transport the greater 
portion of their brick tea overland, 
via Shansi, whilst the Russians in- 
variably send theirs via Shanghai and 
Tientsin to Kiachta, whence it is trans- 
ported to Siberia, Tartary, and Russia, 
on the backs of camels. 

Exhausted Tea-leaves. — At one 
period, many of the luxuries of life, 
on account of their expense, were 
vended by only a few dealers, and con- 
fined to itiQ tables of the' rich. Under 
such circumstances, the temptation to 
tamper with their purity was limited ; 
and when adulteration occurred, the 
superior intelligence and information 
possessed by those who could afiord 
to use such luxuries, usually brought 
about speedy detection. This state of 
things is, unfortunately, in one sense, 
entirely fdtered now. The pure lux- 
uries of a past generation have become 
the adulterated necessaries of the pres- 
ent; the rich man may occasionally 
enjoy his butter, his coffee, and his 
congou, devoid of horrid suspicions 
of tallow, chicory, and exhausted 
leaves ; but, notwithstanding the reve- 
lations of chemistry, the poor man 
cannot, — up to the present he does not. 

Public attention has recently been 
called to the subject of the sale of 
spurious tea. This tea, which is de- 
scribed as " Fine Moning Congou," is 
really nothing but the re-dried leaves of 
the exhausted tea, the peculiar piquancy 
of which is increased by the fact that, in 
Shanghai, the pigs and dogs freely 
promenade amongst the rotting heaps 
in the streets. '*The leaves are for 
the most part quite rotten from the 
putrefactive decomposition, and do not 
contain more than a trace of the ac- 
tive principle of tea. The odor of 
them is very offensive ; and, when in- 
fused in boiling water, they produce a 
nauseous and unwholesome liquid." 
With such a repulsive description be- 
fore us of an article which yields, or 
ought to yield, the most fragrant of all 
infused beverages, it may bo instructive 
to glance at the composition of good, 
sound tea, with a view to ascertain 
what ingredients are eliminated by in- 
fusion ; in other words, how leaves be* 
come exhausted. 



The following are the analytical re- 
soHs of some of the best specimens of tea 
obtainable, at the periods when the 
chemical examinations took place, and 
are compiled from the researches of 
Johnston, 1853; Mulder, 1861; and 
others, in 1869 : 

Composition of Pure Dry Tea, 

Chinese. Assam. 


Black. Black. 



Per cent. 



VoUtUe Oil, 




























£xtract. Matter, 




' '« Deposit, 




F-xtracted by^ 

Hydrochloric > 




Acid, > 





Woody Fibre, 




100.00 100.00 100.00 

The following are the proportions of 
theine, the most important constituent 
of tea, as foand in various samples at 
different times, by Stenhouse : 

1.05 per cent. 
0.98 " 


In Hyson . 
In Twankay 

In Fine Congou . . 2.13 

In Average . . 2.00 

In common Congou . 1.02 

InBohea . . . 0.70 

In Assam . . . 1.37 

In Kumaoa . .1.09 

The nitrogenous constituent of tea, 
according to Peligot, has been ascer- 
tained to be : 

In Pekoe . . . 6.58 per cent. 
In Souchong . . 6.15 " 
In Gunpowder . . 6.15 " 
In Assam . . . 6.10 " 

The exhausted leaves contain much 
vegetable matter insoluble in boiling 
water, but which is readily given up 
in the presence of an alkali. Taking 
advantage of this circumstance, the 
tribes of Central and Northern Asia, 
who care little for flavor, mingle their 
tea, which has previously been boiled 
in alkaline steppe water, with fat, and 

flour, consuming the whole as a broth. 
It needs but a glance to see that, 
apart from any putrefactive decompo- 
sition which may be discovered in re- 
dried tea-leaves, they are not unfit for 
human food, if consumed as a vege- 

The use of leaves which had ^^ passed 
through the pot," as a means of in- 
creasing the bulk of tea retailed by 
certain grocers of " easy virtue," was 
brought before the public some years 
ago. It was supposed, in 1843, that 
there were eight manufactories for the 
purpose of re-drying exhausted tea- 
leaves in London alone, besides many 
others in various parts of England and 
America. The practice pursued was 
as follows : — Persons were employed 
to buy up the exhausted leaves at hoteb, 
coffee-houses, and other places. These 
were taken to the factories, mixed with 
a solution of gum, and re-dried. After 
this, the dried leaves, if for black tea, 
were mixed with rose pink and black 
lead, to ^^ face " them, as it is termed 
by the trade. 

Coming to a more recent period, we 
find a quantity of material expressly 
prepared for tea adulteration, which 
possessed the negative merit of contain- 
ing no tea at all. It consisted of broken 
sycamore and horse-chestnut leaves, 
stuck together and rendered astringent 
with catechu. 

It must be evident from the fore- 
going, that the time has passed away 
when wc need hold up our hands and 
roll our eyes in holy horror at the in- 
iquity of the Chinese. Surely it were 
better to mingle our frugal Congou with 
Maloo mixture, over which the nimble 
Shanghai pigs had gyrated, and China 
dogs gambolled, rather than return to 
the days of slow poisoning by arsenite 
of copper, chromate of lead, catechu, 

Coffee. — Having seen in our last 
number the properties of Coffee, we 
will now glance at the adulterations 
already discovered. The foUowing is 
a list of the adulterations detected : — 

1. Chicory. 

2. Roasted wheat. 

3. ^^ peas. 

4. ^^ beans. 



5. Roasted carrots. 

6. " maogoldwtirzel. 

7. " rye. 

8. " acorns. 

9. Sawdust. 

10. "Coffina" (lupin seeds). 

11. Oak bark. 

12. Groats. 

18. Baked horse's liver. 

14. "Blackjack." 

15. Reddle. 

•16. Venetian red. 

These are, therefore, the matters 
which are employed for the sophistica- 
tion of coffee: . 

Of forty-six samples of coffee pur- 
chased at different points, an exami- 
nation showed that 17 were pure, 5 
contained chicory, 18 chicory and 
roasted grain, 1 chicory and sand, 1 
chicory, roasted grain and sand, 1 
chicory and foreign roots, 1 husks or 
" parchment," 1 roasted grain, and 1 
stinking berries. 

Thus it will be seen, that twenty-nine 
of the forty-six samples examined were 
adulterated ; and that chicory entered 
as an adulterant into twenty-six of 
them. The adulteration noted as roast- 
ed grain is principally made by means 
of raspings of loaves, stale sea-biscuit, 
and other refuse farinaceous matters. 
This sophistication seems to be the 
most in vogue at present, and it is cer- 
tainly the best to defeat popular detec- 
tion by the sense of smell. 

Chicory, the chief adulterant of coffee, 
is the dried and roasted root of a plant 
which belongs to the botanical order 
of CompositcB. It is very similar to 
the common dandelion, which belongs 
to the same order, but it is readily dis- 
tinguished by the color of its flower, 
which is blue, while that of the dan- 
delion is yellow. The chicory root 
also bears great resemblance to that of 
the latter plant, being, like it, soft, and 
exuding when squeezed the milky juice 
50 well known to all of us who have 
enjoyed, as children, the pleasure of 
wandering in the fields. 

The following analysis will show the 
composition of chicory root in its dried 
state, and also that of its ash, to which 
we shall have occasion to refer here- 

I. — Dried Chicory 




Gum . • 




Extractive (bitter) 


Fat . 


Woody fibre, etc. 



Mineral matter . 


II. — Composition of 

the Ash, 



Soda . 


Lime . 


Mamiesia . 


Irpn . 


Sulphuric Acid . 

. 0.284 


. 0.127 

Carbonic Acid 

. 0.078 

Phosphoric Acid . 

. 0.303 

Sand • • • 

. 0.279 


From these results it is evident that 
this plant contains no principles which 
would render it to any eiftent a useful 
substitute for coffee, as we look in vain 
for the caffeic acid^ or the theine^ al- 
ready shown to exist in coffee. But 
what shall we say if, besides contain- 
ing nothing valuable, it should be 
proved to be positively injurious when 
fipeely consumed? Let us hear Dr. 
Johnston on this subject : " Taken 
in moderate quantities, the ingredients 
of chicory are probably not injurious 
to health, but, by prolonged and fre- 
quent use, they produce heartburn, 
cramp in the stomach, loss of appetite, 
acidity in the mouth, constipation with 
intermittent diarrhcea, weakness of the 
limbs, trembling, sleeplessness, a 
drunken cloudiness of the senses, etc. 
At the best, therefore, chicory is a 
substitute for coffee, to which only those 
to whom the price is an object ought 
to have recourse." To these remarks 
we would add, that we prefer not being 
poisoned even at the most moderate 
cost ; and in cases " where price is an 
object," we would advise the public to 
abstain from paying anything at all for 
such a filthy beverage, as chicory-coffee 
undoubtedly is, to persons of unvitiated 
taste. We might bring up many other 
charges against this nasty infusion, but 
we will only give one more, and that is 



a dictum of Dr. Boer's, to the effect 
that the continual nse of chicory causes 
amaurosis^ and consequently blindness. 
We now turn to the detection of the 
adulterations of coffee. Many simple 
processes have been from time to time 
{apposed, to ascertain whether this ar- 
ticle be pure or not, without saying ex- 
actly what is the adulterant ; and of 
these we subjoin a few : 

1. Take the packet of eofibe as it 
comes from the grocer's, in your hand ; 
sttid, having given it a good squeeze, 
lay it gently on the table and open it. 
If the contents be found adhering to- 
gether in a cake, the sample is not 

2. Drop gently a teaspoonful of 
coffee on the surface of a glass of water, 
and observe if any of it sinks im- 
mediately; if so, it is bad. Let the 
whole be now slightly stirred, and 
notice the color imparted to the water ; 
if thifl be a decided brown tint, then the 
coffee is adnlterated, most probably 
with chicory or burnt grain of some 

3. Make an infusion of the coffee 
in the usual way, pour some into a cup, 
and let it stand till cold ; if a skin or 
scum should form on the surface, there 
ia reason to suspect baked animal mat- 
ter, such as horses' liver. Microscopic 
rumination however will prove more 
effectual and satisfactory in its results, 
than any other process. 

Microscopic Appearajioes op Pure 
Coffee. — We notice that there are 
two totally distinct forms visible. (1.) 
Several little flat fragments marked all 
over with irregular angular cells. 
These are fragments of the body, or 
substance of the seed ; and the cells 
are those which contained the essential 
oil« already referred to last month. 
(2.) A number of peculiar oval, or 
rather lance-shaped bodies, resting on 
a fibrous membrane, and having tooth- 
like oblique markings between their 
edges. These are fragments of the 
outer skin or testa of the seed, and are 
ironderfuUy characteristic of pure cof- 
fee. None of those structures appear 
in any of the usual adulterations of this 

Microscopic Characters of Pure 

Chicory. — Here are no lance-shaped 
bodies, nor angular cells. We now 
notice a mass of round and elongated 
cells, evidently of a soil tissue, which 
form the principle portions of the sub- 
stance of the chicory root. We also 
observe a nmnber of long tubes laid 
in bundles over the cells, having a 
most characteristically and beautifully 
marked surface. These tubes come 
from the centre of the root, and, once 
seen, can never be mistaken, except for 
the similar tubes of dandelion, which 
we will next describe. 

Microscopic Characters of Dan- 
DELiOK. — These are so similar to chic- 
ory as to be readily mistakable for 
that root. On examining them more 
minutely, however, a difference is ob- 
servable. The cells are more elongated, 
and the tubes are more decidedly 
marked in complete rings, while here 
and there we find masses of a structure 
closely resembling the ribs of an 

For the detection of roasted grain, 
we depend mainly on the appearance 
of granules of starch, which can be 
identified by their size and shape. The 
cells of turnip are much larger than 
those of chicory, while particles of 
sawdust, especially mahogany, can be 
picked out from coffee, by means of a 
needle, and readily identified. Mineral 
coloring matters may be discovered by 
burning some coffee in a small porce- 
lain crucible, when, if the ash be red, 
it is certain that Venetian red, or other 
ferruginous earth, has been added to 
deepen the color. 

As in this world partisans can be 
found for almost any dogma, no matter 
how ridiculous it may be, provided that 
it is only asserted loudly and unblush- 
ingly enough, — so our grocer friends 
have, by dint of continual asseveration, 
got a large number of people to pos- 
itively believe in chicory-coffee, and call 
this filthy root an improvement ! The 
terrible absurdity of this idea must be 
manifest to any one who glances for a 
moment at the subject. Chicory is a 
root, while coffee is a seed. The for- 
mer, buried in the ground, deprived of 
the influence of sunlight or air, only 
contains a few of the crudest vegetable 



matters, so to speak ; while the latter, | 
flourishing under a tropical sun, has all 
those complicated and refined organic 
principles, such as alkaloids, for the 
formation of which the action of light, 
etc., appears to be absolutely necessary. 
The advocates of chicory adulteration 
know well that it produces a sensation 
of oppression in the stomach, and they 
take advantage of this to pretend that 
chicory-coffee has strength, and are 
believed by ignorant persons who can- 
not discriminate between that quality 
and indigestion, and whose palates have 
long since been thoroughly vitiated. 
Another cry of these apologists for 
adulteration is, that, thanks to chicory, 
coffee is brought down within the 
means of the poor, who otherwise 
could not afford to drink it. The 
simple fact is that, as a rule, the poor 
get little or no coffee in their cheap 
mixture, while the grocers get a sum 
per lb.- for a substance which would 
not fetch one-half the price, if it were 
sold in its own name. 

In conclusion, it is to be hoped that 
complete success may attend the intro- 
duction of tea and coffee culture into 
our own country, in California. A 
single individual has, it is said, estab- 
lished a Japanese colony for the culture 
of the tea-plant at Placerville, £1 Do- 
rado County, where over one hundred 
acres have already been laid out with 
200,000 tca^plants, which give promise 
of a bounteous crop of savory teas. 

Another gentleman, deeply impressed 
with the idea that good coffee could be 
grown in California, procured at no 
little trouble a quantity of the seed 
coffee of very fine quality, and will, it 
is said, without doubt succeed in bring- , 
ing the plants to perfection. The time, 
therefore, we trust is not far distant 
when the home production of tea and 
coffee will be of sufficient magnitude 
to bring the cost of a pure article of 
good quality within the reach of the 
poor, and thus at the same time remove 
the strong temptations to adulteration 
which at present exist. 


WITHOUT advocating the views 
of absolute vegetarians, it is cer- 
tain that much more sustenance might be 
derived from vegetables than is now ob- 
tained, by those who cannot afford a 
proper quantity of meat. The cause 
is simply ignorance, prejudice, lack of 
imagination and ingenuity among the 
poorer housewives ; while the more 
wealthy and educated have not the stim- 
ulant of need to enforce their inves- 
tigation of the matter. Abroad, a 
thousand and one contrivances have 
replaced in poor families the use of 
meat ; the poor, of our cities especially, 
too often console themselves for the ab- 
sence of animal food by drinking, for 
the most part, poisonous spirits. To 
remedy these evils, good teachers and 
willing pupils are wanted ; but the poor 
decidedly object to learn, and no one has 
had the courage to attempt to teach them. 
Burke's inmiortal maxim has done in 
this wise some harm. Let us imagine 
a bold philanthropist, who would enter 
an American's home and teach his wife 

how to select and cook vegetables, after 
scientific rules, for the general advan- 
tage and economy of the family. What 
a desecration of the freeman's dignity — 
what unwarrantable interference io 
domestic affairs ; in a word, a man's 
house would be no longer his castle. 
If, however, it is impossible to give 
lessons personally, the press might have 
achieved the work, or at least assisted 
in it. But this is not so, and it is to 
the discredit of that great power ; nay, 
more, it proves that the press is not al- 
together free fi*om the empire of self- 
ishness. The poorest have been made 
to sympathize with the political inter- 
ests of their newspapers, to the advan- 
tage of party or individuals ; but nothing 
has been done to teach them how to 
mind their own particular domestic 
affairs. Far be it from me to deny the 
political advantages enjoyed by the 
poorest classes — advantages which 
have been fought for and won by the 
cheap press. But is it not of equal 
importance to keep the poor from par- 



tial starvation, and the ^^ drink of de- 
spair,'' by teaching them how thej can 
derive, I may boldly say, doable the 
advantage from their expenditnre? 
This has hardly ever been attempted, 
and for this purpose it wonld be well 
to investigate how far vegetable matter 
can be nsed as a cheap substitute for 
meat, thus proving itself better than 

Undoubtedly great sustenance can 
be derived from vegetables. Vegeta- 
rians can give us many example^ to 
prove that vegetable matter alone will 
sustain life, but I Umit myself to one 
or two instances, proving that we are 
not absolutely dependent on meat, and 
that in its absence, or with a very 
small quantity of it, good health and 
strength can be secured. Yolney, a 
well known, though not a recent author- 
i^, describes the Wallachians in his 
travels as '' tall, well-built, robust, and 
e£ a very wholesome complexion, dis- 
eases being rare among them." Fm*- 
ther on we are told, ^^ the manners of the 
Wallachians, as far as I have been able 
to jadge them, are simple, and neither 
eiid)eUished nor suUied by art. Tem- 
perate in their repasts, they prefer veg- 
etables to fruit, and fruits to the most 
jbKcate meat." The miners in Bel- 
ginm famish another good example. 
They eat, according to a report made 
IB die locality, 2 lbs. of bread per day, 
aboat 2 oz. of butter, 1 oge. of coffee 
and chicory mixed, while for dinner 
tibey have in the evening a portion of 
vegetables mixed with potatoes, weigh- 
ing at the most 1^ lbs. They have 
meat on Sundays and festivals, but 
daring the week they drink neither beer 
nor other fermented liquors. Coffee is 
tiieir only beverage. Yet these work- 
men are hardy and healthy. It is not 
Hie coffee which sustains them, for it 
constitutes but l-85th of the nutritious 
properties of their aliment, though M. 
de Gasparin, in a paper read some 
years ago before the French Academy 
of Sciences, attempted to prove, from 
certain tables, that the waste in liquid 
excretion is less where coffee is drunk 
than at other times. The miners' 
cofiee is not like the French cafh cm 
laU^ for it has but 1-lOth part of milk 

VOL. II. — 6 

in it; he drinks several pints in the 
day, and eats only bread and butter 
until the vegetable meal of the evening* 
The albominous substance which en-^ 
ters into the rations of the Belgian 
miner is thus reduced from 23 gram- 
mes to 15 grammes of azote, lliis ia 
less nutritious even than the diet of ther 
monks of La Trappe at Aiguebelle. 
Here is, therefore, proof that life and 
health can exist throughout a whole 
population with less nutritive substance 
than is generally considered necessary y 
that itaeat can be replaced by vegetable 
and frtrinaceons matter. 

Occasionally a good wholesome vege- 
table diet would be better than nothing ;• 
and, by refreshing the blood and assuag- 
ing thirst, would lessen 'the temptation 
of drink, always so great in mcnnents 
of feverish anxiety, poverty and want. 
Without adopting the miner's diet, 
many a good meal can be made for a few 
cents from vegetables, cooked with 
more art than at present shown. It 
would take too long to analyze all the 
different vegetables at hand ; and 1 will 
content myself with a few practical ex- 
amples illustrative of my meaning. 

For a cheap, yet tasty and substan- 
tial dish, let me suggest that the house- 
wife grtUe two carrots, two turnips, one 
parsnip, a little beet-root and artichoke 
into one pint of split peas, boiled in two* 
quarts cSp soft water for two hours. 
The whole might then be boiled with 
three teaspoonfrds of Indian, wheaten,. 
or Scotch meal, mixed in cold walev,. 
leaving it to simmer together for two 
hours more ; a little parsley, mint, and 
thyme will flavor the dish. More water' 
might be added if necessary. This'' 
somewhat complicated " hodge-podge?' 
would well satisfy a family, and cost 
less, at any rate, than butchers' meat.' 
It would not do every day, but mi^it 
occasionally save the meat and avoid 
the horror of stinting at dinner. For 
a cheaper dish, why should not the tentH 
be introduced for every-day use, as in 
France? For instance, let a pint of 
lentils be soaked in pure soil water for 
twenty-four hoars, then put in a stew^ 
pan (earthen or enamelled is best), and 
boiled (or foar hours. Then two oinonSr 
one parsn^,^ one caarrot, a little puiuiojy 



thyme cut small, and a small quantity 
of boiled rice should be added. This, 
mixed and boiled a short time together, 
would produce a satisfying and savory 
dish, somewhat better than the diet of 
the Belgian miner, and yet very cheap. 
Lentils are about the most nutritious 
vegetable we possess. In 100 lbs. they 
contain 84 lbs. of solid matter, and 16 
lbs. of water of which 33 lbs. are of flesh* 
forming, and. 48 of heat-forming prin- 
ciple ; while butchers' meat, according 
to Baron Liebig's table, has but 21.5 lbs. 
per cent, of flesh-forming principle, and 
14.3 that gives heat. The rice has 82 
per cent, of the heat^forming principle. 
Compared with these, the other vege- 

tables are more useful as giving water, 
flavor, and rendering the dish fight and 
digestible. The celebrated Indian and 
Chinese dish called dakl^ has also len- 
tils for its chief ingredient, and is 
purely of vegetable matter. It is sub- 
stantial and delicious, and is made as 
follows : — Stew a quart of split lentils 
till they form a thicK soup ; have ready 
a pound of rice, well boiled in milk, 
and drained off as dry as possible. 
Shake the rice up loosely in a dish, 
and, after mixing an ounce of curry 
powder with the lentils, pour the lentil 
soup over the rice and serve it up. 
Dishes, cheaper even than these, may 
be made palatable. 


AMONG the remedies applied by 
natives of India for the cure of 
snake-bites, I do not think there any 
which demand notice. In the native 
pharmacopoeia there is no single rem- 
edy which is eflicacious. Under such 
conditions, it is not at all surprising 
that they have not attained to any ex- 
cellence, especially when it is consid- 
ered that even we, with our high 
civilization, knowledge of chemistry, 
and powers of analysis, are compelled 
to acknowledge that we are able to do 
but little against the irresistible virus 
of the cobra. Still our remedies are 
unaccompanied by any hocus-pocus, 
and stand or fall — and are meant to 
stand or fall — by their intrinsic merits. 
Two cases of cure of alleged snake- 
bites, efifected upon natives, have 
come under my personal observation, 
in one instance by ^^ eau-de-luce," 
brandy and violent friction, in the 
other by the same means, with the ex- 
ception of the eau-de-luce, which was 
not procurable at the moment. I have 
said ^^ alleged snake-bites " advisedly, 
because I cannot speak with any cer- 
tainty on the point, nor as to the species 
of the snake in each case. Marks 
similar to those usually inflicted by a 
snake were indicated by the bystand- 
ers, the symptoms were identical with 
those which usually accompany the 
operation of snake venom, and the 

statements of the patients on recoveiy 
were that they had been bitten by 
snakes. I have, therefore, every rea- 
son to believe that they were what they 
were assumed to be. I have, however, 
no evidence of the type of snake. 
One patient frankly acknowledged that 
he had no idea of what kind of snake 
had bitten him. He was simply aware 
that he had been bitten by a snake, 
and from that moment had been in a 
state of terror. The other patient in- 
dicated a kerite as the offender. I 
should, however, be loath to place too 
implicit a reliance on his statement. 
In the first case (said to be a case of ker- 
ite bite), when assistance was aflbrded, 
the patient, who had apparently been 
bitten just above the ankle, was nearly 
seuseless. Eau-de-lucc was at once 
applied externally to the wound, and 
well rubbed in ; and twenty-five drops 
of eau-de-luce were poured down his 
mouth, which was firmly clenched, and 
was with difficidty forced open by an 
iron instrument. He was then raised, 
his limbs well rubbed, and he was 
forced to walk. In five minutes an- 
other dose, diluted in water, was given. 
Brandy was poured down his throat at 
intervals, and circulation induced by 
vigorous friction. The sufferer gradn- 
ally revived; and in the morning, 
twelve hours afler the accident, was 
quite well. 



In the second instance, the patient 
was quite sensible, but languid. He 
said ho had been bitten at 8 p. m. It 
-was then 8.80 f. m. He was gradu- 
ally becoming more inactive, but on 
bemg roused forcibly, and plied at in* 
tervals with strong doses of brandy, 
he became more lively, and eventually 
recovered. . In this instance, also, 
when the sufferer was at the worst, a 
great difficulty was experienced in open- 
ing the jaw to administer the liquor. 

Among other successful cases, two 
have come to my knowledge which are 
somewhat striking. One occurred to 
a gentleman in the English Civil Ser- 
vice, ip India, who was bitten by a 
cobra on the tip of the finger. With 
considerable presence of mind, he took 
off his coat, and at once made a strict 
ligature on the arm, just under the 
shoulder, justly reflecting that the 
poison might have found its way past 
the fingers and wrist. He then made 
deep cross incisions on the wound, and, 
keeping the hand pointed downwards, 
expressed as much blood as possible. 
The poison appears to have been erad- 
icated, for he experienced no unfavor- 
able symptoms subsequently. It is 
not always that such happy results 
fiidlow, even when a ligature is in- 
stantly and skilfully applied, as will be 
seen in a subsequent portion of this ar- 
tide. Indeed, the poison is so subtle, 
and the difficulty of compressing the 
arteries sufficiently so difficult, that 
this antidote, which, when practicable, 
seeins to be the only hopeful one, is 
rarely successM. 

The second case was brought to 
public notice in a Calcutta journal by 
one Kademath Hitter. It appears 
that a native woman by name Ehired, 
was bitten by a snake, aUeged to have 
been a cobra. The lady was very far 
gone when Mr. Hitter appeared on 
Uie scene. He had apparently heard 
that a woman lay at death's door in 
his neighborhood, a victim to snake 
poison. This philanthropic gentleman 
at once perceived that his services 
might be valuable, — he therefore felt 
himself bound to assist. He had heard 
that ammonia was sometimes used as 
a remedy. He had probably very 

little idea what ammonia was, but, like 
a drowning man, sooner than catch at 
nothing at all, he caught at the straw 
presented by his knowledge of the ex- 
istence of ammonia, and he trusted to 
his own acumen to guide him in its 
administration. From a neighboring 
chemist he at once procured two ounces 
of the drug, and subsequently six 
ounces more. Thus armed he pro- 
ceeded to the cure, administering every 
five minutes drachm doses, until at 
last the poor woman articulated, with 
emotion, that she felt a burning sen- 
sation in her chest, and was ^^ like to 
die" of thirst. A little cold water 
was allowed, and then the drachm 
doses were brought into full swing 
again, but luckily at longer intervals. 
Eventually a cure was effected. 

This rough and ready treatment 
seems to have alarmed the medical 
profession ; for within a day or two 
afterwards two letters appeared in the 
same journal, one signed by a surgeon- 
major, animadverting upon the ex- 
traordinary nature of the treatment, 
and cautioning the public against put* 
ting it into operation too readily ; for, 
as he observed, ammonia in such lib- 
eral doses was equally as likely to des- 
troy an ordinary patient as any snake- 
bite; and he attributed the recovery 
in that case to the extraordinary strong 
constitution of the sufferer, who suc- 
ceeded in struggling back into life in 
spite of the combined effects of the 
venom and its supposed antidote. 

Lately, in Calcutta and its neighbor- 
hood, a series of experiments have 
been attempted, by both professional 
and unprofessional men, with a view 
to testing accurately the best known 
remedies against the virus of snake- 
poison. With what result, it is pro- 
posed to show by a brief review of 
the experiments which have come un- 
der personal observation, or have been 
brought to notice through the medium 
of the local press. It will be as well 
first to enumerate the different processes 
which have come under trial during 
the course of experiment, as also 
such as have been suggested by ama- 
teurs whose interest has been aroused 
during the investigation. 



1 St. Both amateurs and professkmal 
men seem to have relied in a great 
measure on ammonia, or some prepa- 
ration containing it in large propor- 
tioDs. This has been applied, both 
ezternallj by friction on the wound, 
and internallj bj frequent doses in 
solution^ and also bj injection into a 
rein or artery with a hypodermic &jf^ 
inge. A solution of quinine, and also 
that known as "Condy's solution/* 
were likewise injected in the same 

2d. Carbolic acid rubbed into a 
fresh wound, previously scarified, both 
alone and aided by doses of anmionia, 
has received considerable support from 

3d. Tlte actual cautery, generally 
in combination with any or all other 
modes of treatment. 

4th. In cases where the extremi- 
ties of the limb were the parts bitten, 
tiic use of a strict ligature has pre- 
ceded other remedies used in conjunc- 
tion with it. 

6th. The following antidote also 
found its way into a public journal, 
but there is no evidence of its ever 
having been resorted to by any of the 
experimenters, nor does the communi- 
cator attempt to establish ita efficacy 
by any mention of recorded inatances 
of cure : 

"The remedy referred fo ia the 
juice of the cotton plant — the i^mib 
Variety — and the method of treatment 
aa follows : A wine-glass of the juice 
is to be administered immediately, or 
aa soon as possible after the bite. The 
bitten part to be excised, and some of 
the juice rubbed in. Injection is to 
be preferred. Also to be rubbed into 
such parts where absorption is speedily 
promoted. This mode of treatment 
to be repeated every quarter or half 
an hour, according to the case, and to 
be discontinued either after the third 
or fourth repetition, or some time after 
the patient has shown signs of amend- 

7th. Dr. Halford's (Professor of 
Anatomy, etc., Melbourne, Australia) 
system has been prominently brought 
before the public, and has to a certain 
extent been recognized and sanctioned 

for general adoption in the Bombay 
Presidency of India, by order of th^ 
Inspector-iGreneral of Hospitals (Indian 
Forces) of that Presidency. Briefly 
stated, it is the system which professes 
to cure by the injection of ammonia 
into the blood. It has been tried, with 
other antidotes, by Dr. Fayrer, of Cal- 
cutta, in a course of experiments, with 
what result will be demonstrated fnr- 
ther on. 

The following account of the success- 
ful cure, by means of ammonia and 
carbolic add, of a dog bitten by a 
cobra, appeared in the Englishman of 
the 25th July, 1869 : — '' A fine fresh 
cobra was brought in this morning ; the 
dogs were secured, and each was bitten. 
One was left to ita fate. The other 
was experimented upon by the acids. 
The result of each case I note under- 
neath." Condensed, the main features 
of the case appear to have been aa fol- 
lows : — The first dog bitten was fnll- 
grown, and received two bites al 
11.25 A. M. At 12 noon he lay down, 
breathing heavily. The torpor in* 
creased rapidly, and at 12.82 — that is, 
in one hour and twenty-four minutes- 
he was dead. The second dog also 
was a full-grown one, and was bitten 
by the same snake at 12.54 p.m. Car- 
bolic acid was applied at the excised 
womid three minutes afterwards. Li 
half an hour the dog appeared lethar- 
gic Ammonia (eau-de-luce) in solu- 
tion, in a twelve-minim dose, was given 
internally. He rallied at once, and in 
the evening was none the worse. It 
will be noted that the dog operated 
upon received the tMrd bite of the 
cobra. There is, therefore, room for 
presumption that the virus of the snake 
had been in a great measure exhausted 
in the two previous attacks. This view 
is supported by subsequent experiments 
made by the same gentleman in mj 
presence. On the 31st July we pro- 
ceeded, with three other gentlemen, to 
the Government Saib, where a cobra 
was waiting for us. The snake was 
not full-grown, but sufficiently so to 
conceal the most virulent poison. On 
this occasion, at our suggestion, the 
dog upon which it was proposed to 
operate was bitten first — UunM times 



on the leg. Carbolic aoid was applied 
after the lapse of three minutes to the 
scarified wound. In an hour and five 
minutes the dog lay down, breathing 
heaYilj, and rapidly became worse. 
Ammonia was administered on the ap- 
pearance of worse symptoms, but with 
no favorable result. The dog died in 
one hour and nineteen minutes. 

Within five minutes of the time the 
first dog was bitten, a second, a puppy, 
was struck twice severely on the nose 
by the same snake. (It must be re- 
membered these were the fourth and 
fiflh bites.) Blood flowed from the 
wounds. He was theoC carefully 
watched. No ill efiects followed. A 
third dog, also a puppy, was bitten by a 
cobra fourteen inches long, with a view 
to ascertaining whether any virus could 
be concealed by so young a specimen. 
No remedies were applied, and the dog 
was none the worse. The youngster 
bit most viciously, and evidently had 
the will to injure ; but it is apparent 
that in their earliest days no poisonous 
secretion is deposited in the fang — 

perhaps the fang itself is of later 
growth. The same dog was now ap- 
plied to the larger cobra ; but without 
ill efiects. 

On the 8d of August, at the same 
place, the same cobra, which had beoi 
in confinement some time, was forced 
to bite a full-grown pariah (dog). Car- 
bolic acid was applied as usuaL No 
symptoms of suffering were observed. 

£au-de-luce in solution was adminis- 
tered as a precautionary measure half 
an hour after the bite. A second dog 
was also bitten repeatedly by the same 
co^ra, but he idso was none the worse. 
The just conclusion to which this series 
of experiments lead us, is that, in the 
first place, bites subsequent to the first 
and second are less fatal *as they are 
repeated; and, secondly, that confine- 
ment tends to prohibit the secretion of 
the natural poison of the species, lliere 
is also room to believe, from the pro- 
tracted duration of the fatal cases, that 
the snake in question was not one of a 
very venomous fisunily of cobras. 


THE pleasures of swimming need 
not be dwelt on. To feel one's 
self completely at home in a new ele- 
ment, to lose the sense of ponderosity, 
to be able to move one's limbs in any di- 
rection through an unresisting medium, 
is to enjoy, for the moment, the pleasures 
of existence of a difi*erent order of 
animals. To feel not the weight of the 
flesh which we often find ^'too, too 
solid," on terra firma ; to dart hither 
and thither at will, roll over on side or 
back, or dive into the depths beneath 
us, is little short of ecstasy ; we are no 
longer a terrestrial animal, we have en- 
tered a new phase of existence, we are 
a fish, our limbs are fins, and the water 
is our element. He who passes through 
life without learning to swim misses one 
of the purest pleasures life affords, and 
deserves to be drowned in a six-foot 

Swimming is an exercise at once 
healthful, pleasant, and useful. The 
fidl hygienic effects of swimming caa 

only be obtained when it is practised in 
the open air, and in unpolluted water 
of a natural temperature. In a dose, 
mcHre <Mr less imperfectly ventilated 
room, and in water artificially heated, 
from which, consequently, the air lui0 
been partially expelled, swimming, 
while still retaining its characters of 
pleasantness and utility, ceases to be a 
hygienic agent of any considerable 
power. Every town which aspires to 
be considered at all perfect in its sani- 
tary arrangements should possess ample 
swimming-baths of pure water in the 
open air. The sea-side towns are pro- 
vided by nature with a most exquisite 
description of swimming-bath in the 
ever-changing, ever-fi*esh sea — evei^ 
fresh, that is, when not polluted by the 
drainage of the town, as often happens. 
But our inland towns are not so well 
off, and unless in the neighborhood of 
a lake or a river, they must construct 
artificial baths or do without them* 
Even whtti Ihey have a lake or a river 



they too often allow it to be so polluted 
by sewage as to render it unfit for 
bathing purposes ; and when they have 
neither lake nor river, they too often 
neglect to provide artificial substitutes, 
thus depriving themselves of a power- 
ful hygienic agent, a pleasant recreation, 
and a useful accomplishment. 

The healthful effects of swimming in 
cold water in the open air result from 
the peculiar exercise, the temperature 
of the surrounding mediums, and the 
exhilaration of the spirits it causes. 
Before entering the water, and each 
time of leaving it, we enjoy an air-bath, 
the beneficial effects of which are not 
solely or chiefly dependant on the tem- 
perature, but are mainly owing to the 
actual impact of the atmospherical 
gases, and of the light, and possibly 
Qie direct rays of the sun upon the skin. 
In the water, if it be considerbly colder 
than the ordinary sunmier air, say 50^ 
to 60^, there is a rapid abstraction of 
heat from the surface, causing contrac- 
tion of the cutaneous blood-vessels, and 
expulsion of their blood, which some- 
times produces an almost painful sensa- 
tion. If we then get out of the water 
at once, there is a rapid reaction and 
an intense glow, often so intense as to 
cause tinging over the whole surface, 
accompanied with visible redness, owing 
to the sudden reflux of the blood into 
the cutaneous vessels. If, however, 
we remain in the water in spite of the 
painful sensation caused by the first ac- 
tion of the cold, this gradually subsides, 
and if the water be not very cold, and 
our reactive powers good, and we keep 
ourselves always moving, the blood 
gradually returns towards the cutaneous 
surface, and we thus become accustomed 
to the low temperature, and can remain 
a considerable time in th6 water that 
seemed at first too chiUy to be borne. 
When we then come out of the water 
we do not perceive any sudden reaction, 
but unless we have remained too long in 
the water, we only feel refreshed and 

The exercise in swimming is quite 
peculiar. The body and limbs being 
completely supported by the medium 
in which they are immersed, the mus- 
cles are not employed in supporting 

their weight, consequently their move- 
ments have a freedom not enjoyed in 
any other exercise, and are attended 
with little or no fatigue. This is, how- 
ever, only the case with experienced 
and confident swimmers, swimming 
deliberately and at their ease. The 
inexperienced swimmer finds the exer- 
cise very fatiguing. This, I believe, is 
chiefly owing to his unconscious efforts 
to keep more of his body out of the 
water than would be effected by its own 
natural buoyancy. The experienced 
swimmer lets the water do all Uie sap- 
porting business, and consequently 
swims deeper than the tyro. Very 
rapid swimming, of course, will soon 
exhaust even the most experienced 
swimmer, just as any other violent ex- 
ercise will exhaust. The quickest 
swimmers show very little above the 
water when swimming a race. It so 
happens that swimming competitions 
are confined almost entirely to rapidity 
of swimming, and everything is sacri- 
ficed by competitors to quickness. The 
kind of swimming cultivated by swim- 
ming athletes, whether amateur or pro- 
fessional, is neither graceful nor salu- 
brious, and its utility, except for gaining 
cups and medals, is very doubtful. The 
secret of the hygienic effects of swim- 
ming in sea, lake, or river, is gentle 
exercise in a medium whose tempera- 
ture excites the system to vigorous 
reaction. I do not attach much impor- 
tance to swimming in cold water as a 
means of cleansing the body. There 
is no doubt that it does wash off the 
grosser impurities that accumulate 
about the skin, but it cannot be con- 
sidered as a substitute for the daily tub 
with plenty of soap, by means of which 
only can the skin be kept perfectly 
clean and wholesome. 

The uses of swimming are obvious. 
To be drowned by the upsetting of a 
pleasure-boat within a few yards of the 
shore — can anything be more pitiful? 
To see our friend, perhaps our child, 
perish because we cannot swim a few 
yards to save him — can any thying be 
more painful? Think of the number 
of lives that have been lost by inability 
to swim, of the number of lives that 
I have been saved by the possession of 



this faculty. He who cannot swim is 
as far from being perfectly educated a3 
he who cannot walk. 

But, it will be alleged, there are dan- 
gers connected with swinrtning. And 
so there are dangers connected with 
walking, riding, driving, railways, 
steamboats ; but these dangers do not 
deter us from making use of these 
means of locomotion. But let us see 
what these dangers are. In learning 
to swim you may get out of your depth 
and be drowned : Then learn to swim 
in shallow water. The cold water may 
give you a chiU: Not much fear of 
that unless you are very imprudent, but 
to avoid that insignificant risk you can 
learn to swim in tepid water. There are 
such baths in most large towns. There is 
the risk of cramp overtaking the most 
practised swimmer, and sinking him 
suddenly to the bottom: Swinuners 
do sometimes sink suddenly in deep 
water and so get drowned ; but I doubt 
if they are o&n good swimmers, and 
I doubt if it is cramp that sends them 
to the bottom. The Lancet lately al- 
luded to this subject, and suggested 
that it might be a sort of spasm of the 
respiratory muscles, whereby the air 
was suddenly expelled from the lungs, 
and the specific levity of the body being 
thus lost, the swiihmer sank like a 
stone. That may be partly true, but I 
am convinced it is not the whole truth, 
nor does it explain how the catastrophe 
is caused. I believe the so-called 
cramp to be a spasm of the heart and 
respiratory organs, and that it is pro- 
duced in this way : the swimmer may 
be accustomed to swimming, but he 
has never thoroughly mastered the in- 
dispensable first step in swimming, of 
committing the support of his body en- 
tirely to the water. He exhausts him- 
self in efforts to elevate his head and 
shoulders above the water. As he gets 
into deep water these efforts, which are 
of the nature of nervousness, are in- 
creased ; the cold of the water (to 
which perhaps he is unused from hav- 
ing hitherto practised swimming chiefly 
in tepid wafer) sends the blood in upon 
the heart, he feels choking, throws up 
fais arms with a loud cry, and goes to 
the bottom at once. The cause of this 


oflen fatal seizure I believe to be a 
compound of nervous exhaustion, anx- 
iety, and cold. It is extraordinary the 
difierenco that prevails in regard to the 
power of resisting cold. I have seen 
a man shivering and blue afler five 
minutes in one of the tepid swinmiing- 
baths, while others can remain an hour 
or longer in the sea, and come out 
warm and comfortable. The power 
of resisting the cold of the water often 
depends very much on the condition of 
our body at the time of immersion. 
K we enter the water feeling cold we 
soon become thoroughly chilled, but if 
we are warm from the heat, of the 
weather, or, still better, from previous 
moderate exercise, we can much better 
resist the cold of the sea, lake, or river. 
A dip in cold water, even a cold spong- 
ing bath, will cause some men's ex- 
tremities to die away and remain appar- 
ently devoid of circulation for hours. 
We can then easily imagine that the 
cold of the sea, or of a lake or river, 
may in an individual so sensitive to its 
efiects cause such an accumulation of 
the blood about the heart and lungs as 
to produce all the phenomena observed 
in drowning by so-called cramp. That 
a certain degree of fear or anxiety 
is one of the causal elements is, I 
think, sufficiently proved, by the fact 
that this so-called cramp never occurs 
in shallow water. That it is not cramp 
of the voluntary muscles is, I think, 
evident from the fact that many people 
do get cramp in their legs when swim- 
ming, and this, though painful, is not 
dangerous, for we can always throw 
ourselves on our back or swim in spite 
of the paiu; I have actually plunged 
into deep water with a slight attack of 
cramp in one of my legs, but found no 
difficulty in keeping myself afloat until 
the cramp subsided. Although, until 
its nature is precisely understood, there 
will always remain some risk of acci- 
dent from so-called cramp, still I believe 
the risk would be reduced to insignifi- 
cance if those who chill rapidly, whom 
swimming fatigues, or who become 
nervous in deep water, would refrain 
from venturing beyond their depth until 
they have conquered these failings, 
which habit will soon enable them to do. 



But the slight risks attending swim- 
ming in cold water should- not deter a 
community from providing itself with 
open-air swimming places. The risk 
from drowning will be entirely obviated 
bv artificial constructions on a k^e or 
nver, such as are to be found in many 
continental towns. 

The shallowness of baths (except 
open-air swimming) prevents all prac- 
tice of the useful accomplishment of 
diving deep in water from a height or 
while swimming ; and I am not aware 
of any instruction being given in the 
very difficult art of rescuing a drown- 
ing person. I need not say that this is 
a dangerous and difficult operation as 
long as the person to be rescued is able 
to struggle and clutch at his rescuer. 
It too oi);en happens that the desperate 
efforts of a drowning person drag both 
himself and his would-be preserver to 
the bottom. In some books it is rec- 
commended not to attempt the rescue 
of a drowning man until he has ceased 
to struggle, when it may be too late. 
There is a method of grasping and sup- 
porting a drowning person, however 
lively, that should be taught to swim- 
mers, which will enable them to save 
life without much peril to themselves ; 
and this could be taught in our swim- 
ming baths. By the way, either 
Shakespeare understood little about 
swimming, or he intended to represent 
Cassius as a vain boaster, which, how- 
ever, is hardly consistent with his char- 
acter in the play, when he makes him 
talk about rescuing the drowning Cae- 
sar by taking him on his shoulders as 
^neas did Anchises. 

I must remind the re^er that in 
order to derive the fVdl health-giving 
advantages from swimming, it must be 
performed in cool and deep water, with 
plenty of room, and surrounded by the 
wholesome accessaries of fresh air and 
sunlight. Moreover, the mind of the 
swinmier should not be harassed and 

And here I should say a few words 
respecting the prejudice in favor of sea- 
bathing, which is almost universal. It 
is believed that there is something in 
the sea-water that renders it far more 
salutary than fresh water. This is un- 

doubtedly true with respect to certain 
morbid states of the body — such as 
scrofula ; but it is far from being univer- 
sally true. To many persons the seaside 
and sea-water are little else than poison- 
ous, and bathing in the sea, or mere 
residence near the sea, produces very 
prejudicial effects. To most healtbj 
persons it is not the contents of the 
water that do good, but the exercise 
and the reactions caused by the temper- 
ature and the other elements I have 
indicated above. By many swimming 
in the sea is preferred to swimming in 
fresh water, for various reasons, inde- 
pendent of any medicinal action of its 
salts. They like the charm of bathing 
in the boundless ocean, with all its ro- 
mantic accompaniments; tliey swim 
with greater facility and confidence, as 
the greater specific gravity of salt water 
floats them higher. It may be urged 
that medical men invariably send people 
to the sea for bathing. That is neaity 
true; but then medical men are not 
altogether fi*ee from sharing the preju- 
dice in favor of the superior salubrity 
of sea-water. Moreover, it is fiff 
patients their advice is sought, not 
healthy persons, and the maladies these 
patients are suffering from may seem to 
them to require the medicinal effect of 
sea-water. But tlndoubtedly the chief 
reason for their recommendationis that 
they know that there are facilities for 
bathing in the sea, but they would be 
much at a loss to name any place whore 
their patients could obtain comfortable 
fresh water open-air bathing. For my 
own part, though I love the sea in all 
its moods, and in part because it has so 
many moods, I dislike the sticky hair 
and generally dirty feeling it causes, 
and its nasty taste when one ^\& a 
mouthful; and I would much prefer 
that its waters were as sofl, sweet, and 
cleansing as those of some of our in- 
land lakes. There you have the chang- 
ing moods of the ocean, while the water 
is fresh and sweet, and your body when 
immersed in it seems as white as marble, 
and, Hke Narcissus, you are ready to 
£Etll in love with your beautified person. 
Give us fresh-water batlis in the open 
air, and a removal to the sea-side will 
not be deeired or needed by many who 



DOW aUraoled IhitW. When 
qpeakiDg of the adyantages of swim- 
nuDg in the open air, I have not 
meant that these advantages were lim- 
ited to the male sex. On the contrary^ 
I am strongly of opinion that swimming 
is an. exercise eqaally, if not more, 
adapted to women as to men. Men 
have their luindreds of games and oc- 
eapations that keep their muscles in 
constant and varied play. From these 
women are practically debarred, and 
the exigencies of society limit their ex- 
ercises to but few, and some of these 
caa only be enjoyed by the wealthier 
daases. The tyranny of fashion, too^ 
compels them to dress themselves in a 
manner specially unfavorable to healthy 
exercise, and the consequence is that 
thousands fall into ill health which 
might be averted if their muscular sys- 
tem and circulation had only a fair 
diance. Swinuuing, which must be 
performed without the restraints of fash- 
ionable garments, b of all others the 
kind of exercise from which most advan* 
tage maybe reaped. To most women, 
•k), swimming comes easier than to 
men. Their bodies are generally of less 
ipedfic gravity, and so float more easily 
in water, whether fresh or salt. This 
beii^ so, they sooner acquire the confi- 
dence necessary to make good swim- 
men. Then, as the water sustains the 
whole weight of the body, and as they 
9tt no longer restrained by the bands, 
bones and laces of their dress, they are 
free to bring into full play, without 
fatigue, all those muscles which have 
hitherto been kept in thrall by the 
milliner's devices. 

As a means of maintaining and even 
restoring health, then, swimming in the 
open air is of still greater importance to 
women than to men. 

When women take to swimming, as 
I have no doubt they will eagerly when 
oi^rtunity offers, they will, of course, 
have to abandon their useless and in- 
convenient bathing-gowns, and adopt 
^ dress universally worn by their sis- 
ters on the continent, or something 
eqaally well adapted to allow free play 
to the limbs. — — ^ 

Decay I vo vegetable matter is much more 
poiaonont than decayhig animal matl^. 

Sir J. Y. Simfsok. * Tlic weight of Sir 
James Y. Simpson's brain, including the 
cerebellum, was 54 ounces. Whilst, as is 
well known, the ratio between intellect and 
size of brain is by no means close, yet there 
can be no doubt that it is very important. 
Most of our great men have had large cra- 
nia. The male brain ranges chiefly between 
46 and 58 ounces, its average being 491 
(Quain and Sharpey). That of Cuvier is 
stated to liave weighed C4 ounces, and that 
of the late Dr. Abercrorobie 63 ounces ; but 
it is possible that some error may have crept 
in through the use of weights of differing 
standards. If not, Sir James's brain, whilst 
much above the average, did not nearly 
reach those of the celebrated men we have 
mentioned; but, at the same time, the 
convolutions were remarkably numerous. 
** They were," says a correspondent, ** twist- 
ing and twining round on each other as if 
they could not find room within the head. 
The * Island of Reil * was very wonderlUl." 

Thb First Subject of Akjbsthesia. — 
**Dr. Simpson, on first propounding the 
theory of the api^ication of chloroform to 
patients requiring surgical aid, was stoutly 
opposed by certain Calvinistic objectors, 
who held that to check the sensation of pain 
in connection with ' risitations of God ' was 
to contravene the decrees of an All-wise 
Creator. What was his answer ? That the 
Creator, during the process of extracting 
the rib from Adam, must necessarily have 
adopted a somewhat corresponding artifice 
— * for did not God throw Adam into a deep 
sleep.' The pietists were satisfied, and the 
discoverer triumphed over ignoble and igno- 
rant prejudice." — 

Left-Handsdnbss. ^According to Pro- 
fessor Hyrti, '* It happens in the proportion 
of about two in a hundred cases that the 
left subclavian artery has its origin before 
the right ; and in these cases left-handedness 
exists, as it also often actually does in the 
case of complete transposition of the inter- 
nal organs, and it is found that the propor- 
tion of left-handed to right-handed persons 
is also about 2 to 100. He thinks that ordi- 
narily the blood is sent into the right sub- 
clavian under a greater pressure than into 
the left, on account of the relative position 
of these vessels, that in consequence of the 
greater supply of blood the muscles are 
better nourished and stronger, and that 
therefore the right extremity is more used. 

DuaiNO the past year, no less than 5 Oil 
persons committed suicide in France — 
»4,008 men, and 1,003 women. 

Vbktil^tiov. — It 18 more difilcult to 
ventilate a close room in summer than in 
winter; because in summer there are no 
fires to create a draft, or to move the air; 
but an open fireplace, or an open door, or 
long windows, open at lop and bottom, may 
be suAetont. 


[W« npnblbh the (bUowlBK \tj reqaut ; bellcylni tbu It will ■!» ] 




I lending principles ofUw folloning IHnclloni tat Uw 
TsIiOD af the ippiirenlLy DcaA rrom Drownlpg arc 
ed on thoK of the lite Dr. Marshall Hall, coin- 

dan]. Theie DiiccIioDi have been cxtcnsiv^y circulated ^ 
the InsUlutlnn thraughout the United Kingdarn and In the 
Colonlei. They are alio in use iu the Navy, in the Coasl- 
Buard Service, and at all the Slationi of tbe Briliib Annj 


Send iiDnKdlUcly for medical asElstance, falnnkrti, and 

thg RmoRATiaH op BaiA-mu 
bceathiag i> KMored, the Promi 

and mnnYinif all Ughl 

mpcchilly the brace! , 


it be CDRimi 
vered in fbr o 

nergrtkally, and pi ._ 

;t doihea and dning the skin, muii 
ce or natural breathing ; 

emovinB th 

adeonttlthi „. 

culatinn of the blood be induced before breath Ing 

TdCibar Tni Throat. — Place the patient on the noo 
orrmnndirilh the lice dnwnward<, and nne nfthe ann 
omler the (bwheid. in which position all fluids will taor 
nsadlly escnpe by the mouth, and the toneuc ItHlf will fal 
iarwtsi, leiTin^ the entrance into the windpipe free. Aatii 
Uiia openliaD bir wiping and cleaoalni the month. 


If ■4£iBfBctoz7 bi«atJiing conimericeBj UBc tbc trcatmeiiE 

bnubing, V no bmUhing, or if the brothing rail, then,— 

<Jd«, BupportiD^ the head, and excite the 
niHtrili wiUi %aaS, haruhorn, Had imeliing bdIU, or tickle 
the throU vlth a fEBther, etc., it they are at hud. Rub the 
chest and face wunn, and daih cold water, or cold and hoi 
truer iltematelr, on them. If there be no aucMsi, Iok not 
ment, but instantly,— 

raitiTi^ and Hupponinz the chest well on a foldbt coat 
her article of diesB. Turn the body very gently on the 
lod a little beyond, and then briskly on the face, buck 
1, repeating Ihese mesiures cautiously, efficiently, and 
rvcringlj. about fiVittn times in the minute, or once 
' four or five seconds, occasionally varyinE the side. 

s oniform but efficient pnuumvhlf brisk 'ninveme"! 
« back between and below the ahouider-bl-dcs or bones 
' " ' imedlately before 

Lumin^ the body on thv side. 

Dannif the whole of the operations let one p 
lolely to the movenenU of the head and of thi 

II <■ Rapiraiioit 

*a*The reSBlI <■ Sapii 
If not H» lite, £,./.. 

Whilst the above openlioai are being procscded with, d 

->.. L__j J J. — __. ^^ ^ dry clothing Of blaoke 

'- and cover or grxduallyi 
interfere with the cffona 

n be procured, strip the body, am 
itiH U, bnt taking care not (o Ind 
itore breathing. 

little upward fr^m the ( 


Jll firm cushion or folttd article of dress 

nostrlli. dr?w forward the patient's tonauc, and keep It pn> 
Jecting beyond the iipsj an clastic band over the tongue and 



mder Ihc cUn wUl 

be tied rDuadth«ii,arb]rn]iiiigtbel«rerJBiT, 

\y be m«d? Id TctBiQ the (mt^ue m that poftitioD. 
ttefmre uj tiaht cJoChli^ from About the oecli and chest, 
apccialW the Gocn. 
To iMtTAi* THi MawHKina op Briathiho — Stujd- 

\ng at Ifae patient's head, (rup Uk umt jun above the 
elfiom, and draw the amu fiDlly and •teadJlj unwarda 
lUjove the head, and tap Iktm •irrlckid upwarda for two 
Hmnda. (Bji Hit mtans air it drmm imo at tittgi.) 
Then turn down the pallent'» urnij, and presa them geotly 
■nd firmly (or tffa leconds against the aidei of the cheat' 
(Bj/tkiM miaiu air it friued nl iif Iki la„gi.) [See En- 

RJneat (hue ineaBUTes aliemately, deHbcTxtfl;, and per- 
levenngly, about fifteen timu in 4 muiute, until a apontaoc- 
Dua effort Id rcEpire is perceived, iiuEncdUtelj' upim which 
ccaae to imitate the movementi of brcatbiOA;, and proceed 
to /■</■« CimlalioM and WarmOi, 


WABimi Aia> CiHCDtATioK. — Wiupthe 
patient in ii(> Dlankeu; commence nibbii^ the limbs up- 
wixda, with 6ia sraaploK preaiuie uuT eneriT, uainr 
budlurcliiela, ilanKli, Ac. [By IkU mutKri l(i UaeJ H 
fn^tUid mlaag Ikt rtini Imardi tkt kmrl.^ 

Tm &ictioa moat be continuui und£i tl>e blai^tet <a over 
the dry clothing. 

Promote the wartnlh of the body by the applieathm at hot 
lUaotl*, bottles, or bladder* of hot water, heated briclu, 
ikc-t to the pit i^ the atomach, the arm-pits, between the 
thljrhs, and ID the soles of the feet. 

If the puient has been carried lo a hoose after leuilration 
has been renored, be carefal In let the air play freely about 

On the reatoratlon of life, n teaapoonfnl of warm water 
■hnnldbe^Ten; and then, if the power of awallowlnB have 

or coflee', should be idminitlCTeif. The patient ahould be 
kejit in bed, and a diapoaition to sleep encouT*gnl. 


: tB!tBiXVSS. 



a opLiilon that persons tire ine- 
' not soon make its appeajuicef 
•Tt& afier persevering Ibr Xnaay 

Kda IK geneniA^f half doHd ; 


BdB edge* oT till ,., 
V covered i^ilh a frtithjr 

eaM entirely r the eye. [ 


Avoid nniKh usitfe' ^i"^ '■" "<>< ■'I'™ I^B >»<^ 
IS the IekIi unlcu the tonvue Is secuied. 
" ■ nslancesTipld Ihe bmiy up by th 



DO animals reason, or are all their ac- 
tions and operations dictated by mere 
instinct? On this point, the'opinion 
of Locke, admitted on all hands to be one 
of onr deepest thinkers, and to be rarely 
at fkult in his deductions, is worth attention. 
" It seems," he observes, ** as evident to 
me that some of them [brutes] do in certain 
instances reason, as that they have sense ;" 
and the illustrious Cuvier, after illustrating 
his proposition that at lea^t the superior 
animals are gifted, to a limited extent, with 
mental powers, sums up his argument by 
saying : ** We perceive in them, in short, 
a certain degree of reason, with the conse- 
quences, both good and bad, resulting from 
the exercise of that faculty in man. It 
resembles the dawning of intellect m the 
infant mind previously to the acquirement 
of speech." 

It may be as well here to give as clear 
definitions of the word instinct, as dis- 
tinguished from reason, as we have been 
able to meet with, although Eirby, following 
the French naturalist Bonnet, maintains 
that philosphers will make fruitless efforts 
to define it, '* until they have spent some 
time in the head . of an animal without 
actually being that animal ! " This peculiar 
position we can scarcely expect to be real- 
ized, and therefore we must be content to 
do our best without the knowledge to 
be attainable by sucb transmigration of 
soul I 

Instinct has been characterized by one 
author as ''a natural impulse to certain 
actions which animals perform without 
deliberation, and without having any end 
in view, and without knowing why they do 
it" Or, it may be described as "an in- 
voluntai^ desire or aversion prompting to 
action without the intervention of reason, 
motive, or deliberation, but tending uni- 
formly and exclusively to the preservation 
of the individual or propagation of the 
race." Many familiar examples might be 
adduced in illustration, but a very few will 
be sufficient for our purpose. A bee, when 
emerged from the chrysalis, immediately 
on becoming dry and gaining the full power 
of its wings, sets itseff to work to construct 
a cell, or wanders forth to add to the general 
store, being just as expert in cither opera- 
tion as " the oldest inhabitant " of the hive. 
The common large white butterfly, laying 
its eggs on the cabbage — the t^ortoise-shell 
buttexiiy, on the nettle — intuitively secure 
for the young caterpillars, when hatched, a 
plentiful supply of their proper food — a 
food, be it observed, that the parents them- 
selves do not use. It is perhaps needless 
to remind the reader that lepidopierous 
insects (butterflies and moths) in the perfect 


state live, by suction, on the nectar of 
plants. The dragon-fly, which lives in the 
air, drops her eggs in the water, an element 
which the young are destined to inluibit. 
Sttll more admirable is the instinct by 
which the gad-fly insures an entrance for 
its young into their strange dwelling-place, 
the stomach of the horse. It fastens its 
eggs by means of a glutinous substance to 
the hairs of his skin, and numbers of the 
tiny grubs, when hatched, are conveyed 
thence by the animal's tongue when licking 
himself: from the mouth they easily psss 
into the stomach. But what is strikingly 
worthy of notice is, that the insect never 
deposits its eggs on any part of the horse's 
skm which lies out of reach of his 
tongue. It is impossible to imagine human 
foresight more perfect. A pair of young 
birds build their nest for the first time of 
the same materials, display as much neatness 
and skill in the formation, and fix on as 
desirable a situation for it, as the most ex- 
perienced of their species. The young of 
aquatic birds, when released from the shell, 
at once seek their proper element ; and that 
this is as much the result of a natural 
instinct as an exercise of the imitative fiic- 
ulty, is demonstrated by the eagerness with 
which ducklings, hatched under a hen, 
betake themselves to the nearest piece of 
water, to the grievous perturbatiob of their 
alarmed foster-mother. By the same guid- 
ance most animals are enabled to avoid 
unwholesome or poisonous food, and to 
select that which is the very best fitted for 
their nourishment. 

A very remarkable anecdote of instinct 
in an ass, an animal, as Mr. Kirby remarks, 
not famed for its sagacity, was related to 
him by a fiiend who personally knew the 
facts. The ass had been shipped at Gibral- 
tar, on board the Ister frigate, bound for 
Malta. The vessel, at some distance from 
land, struck on a sandbank off the Point de 
Gat, and the ass was thrown overboard in 
a very high sea, to give him a chance of 
swimming to the shore. A few days after- 
wards he presented himself at the stable 
which he had been accustomed to occupy in 
Gibraltar, and it was supposed that, through 
some oversight, he had not been taken on 
board the frigate. The vessel having to return 
to Gibraltar and refit, the matter was cleared 
up, and it was found that the ass had not 
only got safe to land, but actually made its 
way a distance of two hundred miles, 
through a rugged country intersected by 
streams, where he had never before been, 
and in as short a time as the journey could 
be performed, which proved that he must 
have kept a straight course througfaooty 
neither ^verging to the right or left. 



These few instances will senre to exem- 
plify what is meant by the operation of 
iimpU instinct. 

We get upon more difficult ground when 
we come to consider what are called mod" 
ifeations of instinct \ that is, the deviations 
«f the instincts of animals, and their accom- 
modation to circumstances ; and these va- 
riations, as Kirby obserres, are chiefly 
noticeable among the insect tribes. They 
often exhibit the most ingenious resources, 
their instincts surprisingly accommodating 
themselves to the new circumstances in 
which they are placed, in a manner more 
wonderful and incomprehensible than the 
existence of the faculties themselves. 

Kirby, writing on this subject, relates 
somo interesting facts, some of which we 
shall transfer to our pages. He quotes 
from Bonnet the instance of a caterpillar 
which that naturalist confined in a box, and 
which being denied access to the bark of 
which, in a state of freedom, its cocoon 
would have been constructed, formed that 
shelter for itself out of scraps of paper, 
fastened together by silk. 

The caterpillar of the common cabbage 
butterfly, when changing into the chrysalis, 
nsoall^ attaches itseS to the under side of 
a projecting wall coping, or some similar 
shelter, by a fine thread passing round its 
middle ; and, to secure the adhesion of the 
ends of this thread to the smooth surface of 
the stone, otherwise a doubtful matter, 
commenced ita operations by weaving a 
silken web over a sufficient portion of the 
itone, to which web the ** waistband" is 
attached. A few of these caterpillars having 
heen reared in a box covered with a muslin 
lid, previously to passing into the chrysalis 
state, fostened themselves to this lid with- 
out concerning themselves about the usual 
web, Uie substance of the muslin fUmishing 
a sufficient hold for the thread. 

It is the habit of several of the humble- 
bees to roof their nests with a thick vault 
or coping of moss. Huber covered with a 
bell-glass a nest of one of the commonest 
species (^Bombus Muscorum^f and,, the 
1^8 being placed on an uneven surface, 
"he stuffed up the interstices left with a 
linen cloth. This cloth, the bees, finding 
themseWes in a situation where no moss 
was to be had, tore thread from thread, 
carded it with tiieir feet into a felted mass, 
and applied it to the same purpose as moss, 
for which it was nearly as well adapted. 
Some other humble-bees tore the cover of 
a book with which he had closed the tpp of 
the box which contained them,and made use 
of the detached morsels for covering their 
nest" Huber also made some interesting 
experiments, showing that, in particular 
circumstances, bees can alter the form of 
their cells. 

This whole subject is, by the confession 
of the wisest and most painstaking philoso- 
phers, beset with difficulties. Who can say 

where instinct ends, and reason takes its 
place? Kirby himself waa in doubt under 
which head to arrange many of his illustra- 
tions, and confesses that, in his original 
manuscript, he had adduced several facts 
as instances of the operation of reasoning 
powers, which, on more deliberate reflec- 
tion, he had come to the conclusion were 
the results of instinctive adaptation to ex- 
ceptional circumstances. 

Let us now inquire upon what grounds 
the possession of reason — be the amount 
more or less restricted — has been attribu- 
ted to the animal creation. Their attach- 
ment to and care of their offSspring are 
without doubt almost invariably referable 
to instinct, as we find that when the young 
are able to shift for themselves, the parental 
solicitude is at an end : and indifierencc, or 
even repulsion, takes its place. But do 
not the gratitude and devotion evidenced 
by many animals to their human protectors 
proceed from a higher principle ? It seems 
almost superfluous to mention the dog, of 
whose fidelity and affection for his master 
such innumerable anecdotes are related — 
and yet, to write upon the present subject, 
and not assign him a prominent position, 
would be almost as unsatisfactory a per- 
formance as **the play of 'Hamlet 'with 
the part of Hamlet left out. ** 

Mark the intelligence and delight ex- 
pressed in his every feature, when, from 
his comfortable siesta on the hearth-rug, 
he hears the well-known voice in the hall, 
or the equally well-known footstep, and 
rouses himself at once, his whole fi*ame, 
from the point of his nose to the tip of his 
tail, vibrating with excitement. And, the 
door opened, how he bounds forward, to 
the great terror of some timid youngster in 
the way ; and, planting his great paws upon 
his human friend's ribs, with earnest gaze 
of all but human expressiveness, says, as 
plainly as dog can do, " How very glad I 
am to see you home again ; I've been long- 
ing so for you to come back." Perhaps 
you are resting in your easy-chair by the 
fire, with your favorite companion dozing 
at your feet. You suddenly address him 
as "Good old dog"; how gratefully and 
lovingly he looks up at you in return for 
the slight attention : if so thoroughly sleepy 
that he cannot open his eyes properly, he 
yet makes you an acknowledgment of it 
by one or two lazy wags of the tail. He 
never meets your odvances with the chill 
indifierence you often find among your 

And these dogs are no <' summer friends " ; 
but in the hours of sickness, adversity, and 
distress, cleave to those who have protected 
them, and repay their care with tenfold 
assiduity. We knew a spaniel of the King 
Charles breed, who, when his mistress was 
in her last illness, lay upon the bed looking 
mournfully at her, and, for the closing days 
of her life, never moved from his self-chosen 



position, except for a fewminuteff at a time. 
Ue appeared to know the moment of her 
departure, for, before the attendant relatires 
were aware that all was orer, he set up a 
long pitiable howl, having preyiously only 
showed his sorrow by silent watching. 

Very many toncmng stories have been 
recorded of these creatures ; of their grief 
at the loss of those they hare lored, and 
the almost impossibility of separating them 
from the cold remains; and how, when 
these are hid from their sight, they will, for 
days, months, even years, constitute them- 
selves the unwearying guardians of the 
mound of earth which marks the spot. The 
circumstance which occasioned the com- 
position of Scott's bcautiftil poem, '* Hell- 
vellyn,*' is well known. An amiable and 
highly talented young gentleman, who was 
in the habit of taking long rambles through 
the counties of Cumberland and Westmore- 
land, attended only by a fkrorite terrier, 
perished by losing his way, in the spring 
of 1805, on the above mentioned mountain. 
His body was found three months after- 
wards, still watched over by the faithful 
companion of his solitary excursions. The 
poetry of Sir Walter is not so much in 
fashion as it used to be, and as it is possible 
that the lines may be new to some of our 
younger readers, we venture to quote two 
out of the five musical stanzas which com- 
pose the poem : — 

"Dark green was that spot 'mid the brown monn- 
Where the Pilgrim of Katore kty atretchod^in 
Like the corpse of an outcast abandoned to weather, 
Till the monntain-winds wasted the tensmtless 
Vor yet^iite deserted, though lonely extended, 
For laithnd In death, his mute favorite attended, 
The much-loved rematnt of his master defisnded, 
And chased the hill-fox txA the raven away. 

"How long didst thou think that his silence waa 
When the wind waved his ganaent, how oft 
didst thou start? 
How many long days and long weeks didst thou 
Ere he faded before thee, the friend of thy hoMt ? 
And, oh, waa it meet that — no requiem read o'er 

him — 
No mother to weep, and no friend to deplore him, 
And thou, litUe guardian, alone stretched before 
bun, — 
Unhonor'd the Pilgrim fh>m life should depart ? ^ 

A Fio UNDER Chloroform. — A patient 
in the Kendal workhouse had undergone a 
painful surgical process for the performance 
of which the administration of chloroform 
was judged nccdfUl by the operator. It 
happened to be pig-killing day, of which 
the indications were loudly apparent, when 
it occurred to the worthy practitioner to 
suggest the same opiate to the doomed 
grunter. The hint was acted upon, the 
sponge applied to the animal's nostrils, and 
in a roomwt ho was as quiet as a lamb. In 
this unsuspecting condition the poor victim 
had the knife applied to its throat, and with 

f a result every way satisftctoiy and com- 
■ plete. — Th% Laneei. 

Dr. Dukcan, a professor in the New 
College, Edinburgh, was a veiy *' absent- 
minded" man. The doctor waa coming out 
of the college one day, when a cow brushed 
slightly against him ; the doctor mechanic- 
ally lifted his hat, and muttered, **I beg 
your pardon, ma'am." He was a good deal 
rallied about this, and a day or two after- 
wards, as he was again coming from his 
class, he stumbled against a liuly, and at 
once exclaimed, "Is that you again, you 

Swift proposed to pot a tax on female 
beauty, and to leave evenr lady to rate her 
own charms. He said the tax would be 
cheerfully paid, and would bo very pro- 

Ettmoloot. — " Why are doctors called 
physicians, mamma ? " said a little inquisitive 
girl to her mother, who had just been visited 
by one of them. "Physicians," repHed 
mamma, who was seldom at a loss for an 
fuiswer, " comes from feesetk, as the doctors 
ride about all day to seek fbes." 

" This insurance poKcy is ft queer tfung," 
said Dobbs, reflectively.' "If I can't sell 
it, I can-eel it; and if I can-eel it, I cant 
seU it." 

HopB is the best medicine, and fortu- 
nateljr it is in the power of every doctor to 
dispense it. 

Happiness is a perfUme that one cannot 
shed over another without a few drops fall- 
ing on one's self. 

ExFSRiEircB is a flannel waistcoat that 
we do not think of patting on, until after 
we have caught cold. 

Wise persons, when tiiey take advice, 
go to a Physician, but fools go to a Quad^; 
and the large disproportion between the two 
classes explains why so many Quacks make 
their fortune, whilst many a clever Iliysi- 
cian starves. 

Scandal, like a kite, to fly well depends 
greatly on the length of the tale it luis to 

Habit is a cable. We weave a thread of 
it every day, and at last we cannot break it 



Wide la Ood'a great world around us. 
Room enough for alt to Hve ; 

Mar no creaturo's brief ex^yment— 
Take not what yon oannoi give. 

Ever let your heart be tender, 
For the mute and helpleea plead : 

Pitting leads to prompt rolteTing, . 
Kindly thought, to kindly deed. 

Good Health. 


On the Laws of Correct Living. 



Third Paper. 




PROMINENT amoQg the causes 
of disease is a deficiency of 
pare air. The function of respiration 
is known to consist mainlj in remov- 
ing from the blood the carbonaceous 
results of the waste of our tissues, by 
permitting them to combine with the 
ox^en 6f the air we breathe, and to 
be exhaled in the form of carbonic 
acid. It is easy to see that in a 
crowded and ill- ventilated room, with- 
out the adequate supply of oxygen, 
this carbon cannot be eliminated in 
sufficient amount ; in consequence of the 
impurity of the air, and the retention 
of carbon in the blood, there arise dif- 
ficulty of breathing, feelings of oppres- 
sion in the region of the heart, head- 
ache, and even faintness. Important 
as is pure air in the occasionally vis- 
ited churches, theatres, and places of 
amusement and instruction, it is still 
greater in the factory and workshop, 
where men and women pass the whole 
day, and in the chambers where they 

The great neglect of physical educa- 
tion, so obvious in the treatment of 
children, is carried still farther by the 
absence of all sanitary arrangements 
in the houses and shops of the mass of 
the people, — showing that architects 
and builders know nothing or care 
nothing about the requisites for the 
health of the occupants. Compelling 
workmen and workwomen to remain 

for many hours daily in a close, un ven- 
tilated room, is not only cruel, but is a 
positive and very active influence under- 
mining the health and diminishing the 
power of a community. Most of our 
factory operatives are females, in whom 
the physical degeneration, from this 
cause principally, is painfully manifest ; 
this is ona of the " woman's wrongs " 
that deserves the profound and imme- 
diate attention of philanthropists. 

Sleeping Apartments, 

Most of civilized human races pass 
about half their lives in bed, so that 
the manner in which people sleep is a 
matter of great importance ; yet very 
little attention is paid to it. When 
practicable, one child, and indeed one 
adult, is all that one bed ought to con- 
tain ; and if each bed had its separate 
apartment it would be better still ; the 
emanations of the human body, much 
more than the trifling excess of car- 
bonic acid in air which has been re- 
peatedly breathed, are the sources of 
impurities in chambers, and spread the 
seeds of debility and disease. A sleep- 
ing room should be well aired by a 
fire-place kept open day and night, or 
by some means of ventilation beside 
the windows; with all the modem 
theories and pseudo-science of ventila- 
tion, there has been no great improve- 
ment on Benjamin Franklin's way of 
slightly raising the lower and dropping 
the upper sash of a window, so situ- 
ated that the sleeper shall not be ex- 
posed to a direct draught. Mechanical 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S70, by Albzandbr Moorb, in the Clerk's Office 
VoLIL— Pt.8. of the District Court of the District of Massachoaetts. 


contrivances mey answer for public 
buildings where power is available ; 
but for domestic and every-day use 
some simple modification of a chimney- 
top, depending for its action on the 
natural ascensional power of heated 
air, assisted by the wind from what- 
ever quarter it may blow, must be 
depended on, — such a one, for instance^ 
as the Boyd cap, which seems to be 
simple, effectual, cheap, and not liable 
to get out of order. 

Air vitiated hy Exhalations. 

The vitiated air must not only be 
removed by some such contrivance as 
this, but a regular and constant sup- 
ply of fresh air from without must be 
provided, — in winter, through the 
heating apparatus, and duly warmed, 
in summer directly from the outer air, 
not from the cellar^ through proper 
pipes leading to each room. The 
amount of air required per minute to 
maintain the purity necessary for 
healthy respiration may be taken at 
about ten cubic feet per minute for each 
person. The amount actually rendered 
impure by respiration is small com- 
pared with that required to absorb and 
render innocuous the. organic exhala- 
tions from the lungs, skin, and cloth- 
ing of the individuals occupying a 
room ; these exhalations causQ the foul 
odor of an ill-ventilated room, and are- 
far more injurious, as well as more 
disagreeable, than the carbonic acid. 
It is stated that ten per cent, of car- 
bonic acid mechanically mixed with 
common air is not so injurious as two 
per cent, in air vitiated by respiration 
and the body's exhalations. The ex- 
change of oxygen and carbonic acid in 
respiration does not contain the whole, 
or even a considerable portion, of the 
science of ventilation ; the foulest air 
of a railroad car, or a crowded hall in 
winter, is deficient in oxygen to a 
degree which may be made up by a 
few extra inspirations ; the amount of 
carbonic acid in such places is very 
much less than what workmen ia soda- 
water factories breathe for hours with 
impunity. The great source of impur- 
ity is the organic matter rejected by 
the lungs and skin ; and to detect this, 


we have an unerring guide in the sense 
of smell ; whenever, therefore, we put 
^r noses into a room, and our sense 
of smell tells us of the presence of this 
unmistakable organic impurity, we 
must retreat at once / if we enter, our 
guide soon deserts us, and we breathe the 
poisoned air without apparent harm ; 
as familiarity with vice soon blunts the 
moral perception, so remaining a 
short time in foul air blunts our sense 
of smell, and we unconsciously, per- 
haps defiantly, expose ourselves to the 
germs of various diseases which are 
always floating in the air, ready to 
^become vitalized when they find a 
proper nidus in the human body. So 
thoroughly were the ancient lawgivers 
imbued with the truth of this, that 
cleanliness of the body was made a 
part of their religion ; we have also an 
adage, whose truth we can appreciate 
from the above point of view, viz., 
that ^' cleanliness is next to godli- 
ness " ; with tlie lights of modern hygi- 
ene we may go farther than this, tnd 
say that bodily filth is incompatible, 
not only with the sound health, but 
with the morality and religion of a 

The prevalent modes of warming our 
houses by furnaces and stoves, for con- 
venience and economy, do not favor a 
free circulation of air, and should not 
be' used in tight apartments. In our 
cold climate, it is difficult to solve the 
combined problems of warmth and ven- 
tilation. The open fire-place is the 
great natural ventilator of a room; 
and in our best houses, in addition to 
the registers for heated and pure air, we 
ought to find a fire upon the hearth for 
the purposes of ventilation ; the ex- 
pense of the extra fire will be more 
than compensated by the dimunitioa 
of the doctor's bills, and, what is of far 
greater importance, by the increased 
health and happiness of the household. 
The practice of many people of keep- 
ing up a sufficient fire to allow the 
windows to be kept open, is an excel- 
lent way to secure a plenty of fresh 
air ; when this would be too expensive, 
an augur-hole for every member of the 
family in the sash of the most crowded 
rooms, is a very good substitute. I^ 



mast also be remembered that lamps, 
gas-burners, and whatever is in a state 
of combustion in a room, are consum- 
ing oxygen and evolving carbonic acid, 
and to that extent using up the air we 
require for the pm*ification of our blood ; 
it is estimated that an ordinary gas- 
burner consumes as much oxygen as a 
healthy adult. The amount of air we 
introduce must, therefore, be ample for 
all these additional consumers in the 


Sunshine is of no less importance 
than pare air. • Dr. Bowditch*s statisti- 
cal tables go to show the intimate re- 
lation between the occurrence of con- 
sumption and its allied diseases, not 
only in years where there have been 
an unusual number of cloudy days, but 
in places naturally, and in houses de- 
signedly, deprived of the free access 
of the sun's rays. Some time ago this 
fact was signally illustrated by a dis- 
trict of Paris, where the people were 
pallid and filthy from the absence of 
sunlight in their dwellings ; the gov- 
ernment interfered, and shut up the 
places. There are not a few tenement- 
houses in all our large cities where 
such a procedure would throw light 
not only upon moral and physical nas- 
tiness, but upon the causes of disease 
and death among the poor foreign pop- 
ulation swarming and festering in our 
midst. Let the sunlight into your 
houses, then, and drive away the mould 
and mustiness which lurk in your halls 
and closets, and even in your parlors ; 
far better that the carpets, and chairs, 
and curtains should fade, than that 
the /osy tints of heahh should disap- 
pear from the lips and cheeks of your 
children. The . rays of the glorious 
sun are necessary for vegetable and 
animal growth, and above all necessary 
for the healthy growth of the human 
being ; open, then, your curtains and 
blinds, and see how quickly the sun 
will change the atmosphere of your 
house, bringing light and warmth into 
musty comers, vivifying the air of every 
room, reddening the cheeks of the 
pallid children, and giving to every 
member of the family a vigor before 

unknown. No wonder the eastern na- 
tions worshipped the sun as the source 
of life, and light, and heat ; let us 
open to him our houses, and let him 
have an altar in every room therein. 

Neglected Cellars, 

Pure air and sunlight may enter our 
houses, and yet every room be more or 
less infected by emanations from neg- 
lected cellars. A damp and foul cellar 
is a perpetual source of danger ; de- 
caying vegetable and animal matters 
are the favorite nesting-places of the 
seeds of disease, which so frequently 
spread death in a mysterious way. 
The inmates of many a palatial resi- 
dence have been suddenly and consec- 
utively stricken down from inattention 
to a defective drain, or soil-pipe, or 
other source of disease lurking in the 
generally neglected cellar. The sun 
and air must, then, enter also the cellar, 
as must also the eyes and nose of the 
proprietor, or the deleterious effects of 
this neglect will be fearfully apparent. 

Earth ClosetSy etc* 

In suburban residences, and where an 
ample supply of water cannot be ob- 
tained, a most fruitful source of annoy- 
ance, and often of disease, is the foiil 
odor from the privy. By the use of 
the " Earth Closet," we may be re- 
lieved from the evils attendant on care- 
lessness, negligence, and ignorance in 
the removal and disposition of human 
excreta ; by it the ordinary commode 
may be used in bed-rooms and closets 
without offensive odor. Its use de- 
pends on the well-known power of dry 
earth as a deodorizing agent, more 
economical and of wider utility than the 
water-closet, and leaving a product 
of great value to the agriculturist. 
Time will not allow further allusion to 
this excellent invention, other than to 
assure our readers that dry earth, at 
once applied, will instantly remove all 
foul odor from human excrement, 
whether in the chamber or in the privy ; 
and this inodorous product, where earth 
is scarce, may be used several times 
over, giving out no odor, and becoming 
each time a more valuable fertilizer. 
The importance of this in the sick- 



chamber, and in places where water 
is scarce, can hardly be over-estimated ; 
it removes a serious cause of disease 
in the house, and enables the farmer to 
convert his privy from an ever-present 
nuisance into an odorless source of 

The eccentric Dr. Darwin, who died 
about 70 years ago in England, occa- 
sionally trangressed the laws of strict 
sobriety. Once, on a boating party, 
he became highly exhilarated ; as the 
boat approached Nottingham, he sur- 
prised bis companions by slipping into 
the middle of the river and swimming 
ashore. His companions landed as 
soon &s possible, passed to the markets 
place, and there found the Doctor, 
standing upon a tub, and addressing 
the populace in the following language, 
which no sober man could surpass in 
its just appreciation of the value of 
fresh air, and with which, therefore, 
we will close this portion of our sub- 
ject : " Ye men of Nottingham, listen 
to me. You are ingenious and 
industrious mechanics. By your in- 
dustry, life's comforts are procured for 
yourselves and families. If you lose 
your health, the power of being indus- 
trious will forsake you. That you 
know ; but you may not know that to 
breathe fresh air constantly is not less 
necessary to preserve health than so- 
briety itself. Air becomes unwhole- 
some in a few hours, if the windows 
be shut. Open those of your sleeping- 
rooms, whenever you quit them to go 
to your workshops. Keep the windows 
of your workshops open whenever the 
weather is not insupportably cold. I 
have no interest in giving you this ad- 
vice. Remember that I, your coun- 
tryman and physician, tell you. If 
you would not bring infection and dis- 
ease upon yourselves, and upon your 
wives and children, change the air you 
breathe ; change it many times a dajr 
by opening your windows.** So say- 
ing, he descended from the tub, and 
was led away by his friends, leaving 
this sound advice for their and our in- 

Adulteration. — It is really be- 
coming a difficulty to say where the 

limits of adulteration are to be found. 
It seems to be the only one of the fine 
arts whose province approaches the 
ubiquitous. Our soap is tinctured 
with a fine white clay. The house- 
painter, as he coats our furniture or 
doors, uses white lead with his car- 
bonate or sulphate of barytes, and red 
lead with his vermilion. The weight 
of printing paper is often increased by 
plaster of Paris. To come to drinkables, 
immature red wines owe no inconsid- 
erable measure of their astringency 
to oak sawdust and the husks of fil- 

The transparency of cloudy white wines 
is imparted by gypsum ; and where, we 
should like to know, does the deep, 
rich purple tint of much of our port 
come from, if not out of the skins of 
elderberries and bilberries from Ger- 
many, and wood from Brazil ? Indeed, 
it is no secret that much of our port 
itself is "doctored," and under its 
name thousands of pipes of spoiled 
cider fetch an excellent price. The 
flavor of French brandy is successfully 
mimicked by distilling molasses spirit 
over wine lees. Indeed, as far back 
as the age of the " Tattler," there ex- 
isted " a certain fraternity of chemical 
operators, who, working under-ground 
in holes, caverns, and dark retirements, 
by the power of magical drugs and in- 
cantations, raised under the streets of 
London the choicest products of the 
hills and valleys of France." The 
bitter of* ale is often wormwood, and 
the brown of stout Spanish liquorice ; 
while the conunonest alcohol of all is 
freely associated with hartshorn, cori- 
ander seeds, and nux vomica. Nor is 
what we eat much more immaculate 
than what we drink. The potiftoes, 
which are sometimes said to improve 
our bread, are much cheaper to the 
adulterator than the food into which he 
transplants them. Spoilt flour is met- 
amorphosed into a light porous article, 
after being submitted to the influence 
of sub-carbonate of ammonia. But 
the staff of life is most often supported 
by a mixture, most appropriately 
called " stufi*," composed of one part 
of alum in minute crystals, and three 
of common salt. 




MOST men believe in two things, 
viz., — force and maU&r^ but the 
one is so intimately blended with the 
other, that, apart, we can hardly, if at 
all, recognize them. Now, of late 
years, since the sciences called the nat- 
ural sciences have beenduoik and more 
studied, men have set themselves to 
work to investigate what is called force, 
and have found that what were for- 
merly held to be separate and distinct 
forces, or, as people then preferred 
calling them, imponderable bodies, that 
is to say, substances which could not 
be weighed, and which had none of the 
other ordinary properties of matter, 
although they called them such, were 
in reality identical, and that one force 
passed into another kind of force, in- 
sensibly it might be, but not the less 
surely on that account. 

To take an example : formerly men 
held electricity, magnetism, chemical 
force, heat, light, and motion, to be 
things totally different and distinct. 
Nowadays most men look upon these 
as one and the same, modified vari- 
ously but still identical ; so that either 
can take the place of the other. As 
the simplest of these, motion has been 
accepted as a kind of starting-point, and 
hence all the various forces we have 
Bdentioned above, as well as certain 
others we might name, are held to be 
fnodes of motion. Everybody has heard 
of the plan adopted by some savage 
races to kindle their fires, when live 
embers are not to be had, and where 
lacifer matches are unknown. They 
rub together two pieces of dry wood 
until one or. the other takes fire, and 
thus effect their purpose. Now, what 
have we here ? We shall not yet speak 
of the changes within the body which 
movement implies, but, starting with 
the motion given to the two pieces of 
"woo^^ we see how motion gives rise to 
heat, how heat ends in flame — that is, 
light-giving chemical change — and so 
on ; for with chemical change begins a 
new series. Thus, when two metals 
of opposite characters are acted upon 
by compound substances, like oil of 

vitriol, or aqua fortis, or blue vitriol, 
chemical change goes on, and elec- 
tricity shows itself, as in the ordinary 
galvanic batteries, which are now fa- 
miliarized to the public at the different 
telegraph stations. Electr'city, in its 
turn, acting on a bar of soft iron, makes 
it a temporary magnet, which has the 
same powers for the time being as a 
loadstone. Electricity may also easily 
be converted into light and heat, as in 
the electric light which is now used in 
England as a beacon to sailors at Dun- 
gencss and other lighthouses ; in the 
better known and far more dangerous 
form of lightning ; and in the sparks 
which may be drawn from the back of 
a cat by stroking her fur the wrong 
way on a frosty night. A more com- 
mon illustration of motion converted 
into heat and light, or combustion, i. c., 
where there is chemical change, is seen 
when, by the friction of along run, the 
axle of a railway carriage sets on fire 
the carriage to which it is attached. 
So mu< h, then, for illustrations of the 
change of one kind of force into an- 
other. Now we must speak of those 
which take place within the human 

' In the human body, as in all other 
machines, every movement implies a 
chemical change, for wherever force, 
of whatever kind, makes itself appaijp 
ent, there is change at the same time. 
As to the different kinds of change 
wi{hin the body, we do not now speak ; 
we only deal with that implied in mus- 
cular motion. 

What, indeed, we chiefly wish in 
this paper, is to illustrate the mechanics 
of the human body ; to show, in other 
words, how much of the machine en- 
ters into its constitution and its various 
actions. For our purpose, no more 
apt comparison can be drawn than that 
which is afforded by the steam-engine, 
to which, indeed, the . human frame 
presents many analogies. In the first 
place, then, we may assume that the 
steam-engine is composed of certain 
masses of iron, steel, and brass, ar- 
ranged in certain definite forms, whilst 



the human body, from otir present 
point of view, may be assumed to be 
made up of certain bones, muscles, 
tendons, ligaments, blood-vessels, and 
nerves, also arranged in a definite 
fashion. And whereas the masses of 
metal composing the steam-engine would 
be useless without the mterveution of 
heat produced by some substance, such 
as coal or coke, and acting through the 
medium of steam produced by the ac- 
tion of heat on water, so the mechanism 
of the human body would be altogether 
useless without the food which we daily 
consume. Food stands in much the 
same relation to the human body as 
fuel does to the steam-engine. But the 
food of human beings is destined to 
fulfil other ends besides those implied 
by the fuel of the steam-engine, and in 
this way. The steam-engine, after be- 
ing constructed, daily wastes. Every 
day it becomes worse, for each stroke 
of its piston, to say nothing of the mo- 
tion of its other parts, implies a waste 
of the piston itself, and of the cylinder 
in which it is enclosed, and in which it 
works. Now, when these get out of 
order, the whole machine has to be 
stopped, that the engineer may repair 
the deteriorated portions ; but this is 
impossible in the animal frame, with- 
out death ensuing. So that the human 
body is to be looked upon as an engine 
constantly working, constantly wasting, 
and constantly repairing its own defi- 
ciencies. But, just as the coal wliich 
is used to drive ie steam-engine would 
be useless for the repair of the brass or 
iron of which the engine is composed, 
so would that kind of food which* is 
most useful in supplying the means of 
motion in the human body be useless 
for repairing the waste of its tissues. 

From this we arc led to conceive 
that human food must consist of more 
than one kind of material, and so it 
does. If we take the staple of life as 
consisting of bread and meat, we find 
there the necessary substances; for 
bread, especially white bread, consists 
chiefly of starch, which may be likened 
to the coal of the steam-engine ; whilst 
meat consists of two portions, the fat 
and the lean, of which the former goes 
to aid the starch in propelling the ma- 

chine, the latter going to repair the 
waste entailed by the action of the two 
former. Now how should we set about 
finding out how &iuch work a steam- 
engine had done in a given time? 
Not surely by estimating the infinitely 
small amount of refuse produced by the 
waste of the iron and brass, but rather 
by the amount of coal consumed. So 
in the hun^ body, the work is to be 
.measured by tte starch and fat used 
up, or rather, by the products of these, 
not by the waste of the muscles or the 
meat in a changed form. Neverthe- 
less, this error was for a long time 
made in the case of man, and has only 
recently been exploded. 

Now, as to the different kinds of 
motion observed in man or other ani- 
mals, certain of these are common to 
all kinds of bodies, animal and vege- 
table, as well as mineral. Of such 
''kinds are the motion implied by chem- 
ical change, by heat, and the more 
marked phenomena of gravitation ; but, 
besides these, there are certain partly 
physical, partly vital phenomena, such 
as result from the commin«:lino: of oil 

o o 

and water, especially if the latter con- 
tain a substance like the white of eo:«:. 
These movements were first observed 
by a well-known and distinguished 
botanist, nariied Robert Brown, whence 
the movements are sometimes spoken 
of as the Brunonian, or, on account of 
the small size of the bodies concerned, 
molecular movements. 

If we make the acquaintance of 
some of the lowest forms of animals 
and vegetables', we find ourselves on a 
kind of neutral ground, the inhabitants 
of which might belong to either king- 
dom, and to which of these they do 
really appertain it is not easy to say. 
* Many of these lowly forms of animals 
and plants consist of a kind of jelly-like 
material, apparently of nothing else. 
They have no organs of sense, no organs 
of digestion even, or of circulation. Still 
these little structureless particles have 
the power of motion, and even (tf de- 
stroying beings much higher than them- 
selves in the scale of animal life. From 
one of these living masses of jelly, called 
an amosta, this kind of motion, by the 
protrusion of certain portions of the 



mass ifkanj given direction, uUimatelj 
folio wea by the whole, has been termed 
amoeboid. Still this variety of motion, 
not depending upon gravitation, but on 
the vital action of the living being, 
necessitates chemical change, and con- 
sequently food. It is, indeed, seen 
even in man, in whose veins, and con- 
stituting a portion of his blood, flow 
certain small rounded and colorless 
bodies called white blood . corpuscles, 
which frequently exhibit similar 
changes ; oilen, also, particles of the 
same kind in other parts of the body 
do the same thing. 

Mounting to a somewhat higher 
stage in animal life, we encounter a 
number of beings furnished with little 
fringe-like processes, which they can 
keep in constant motion. These fringe- 
like processes are termed cilia^ and 
their motion is called ciliary ; it may 
be used to illustrate a point to which 
we shall again hdve occasion to refer. 
The minute beings furnished with cilia 
are not unfrequeutly fixed to one spot, 
without the power of changing fheir 
place of abode. In these beings the 
cilia are useful for setting up currents 
in the water by which they arc sur- 
rounded, by which currents particles 
of food may be driven to the creatures 
which are deprived of the means of 
going in search of it. But in others, 
which. are free, the motion of their 
cilia in the surrounding water resem- 
bles in its effects those of the screw of 
a steamer, for thereby the little beings 
are rapidly propelled from one point 
to another. Perfectly similar are the 
effects of a steamer's screw, which, the 
steamer being firmly fixed, would only 
be able to set up current$ in the water, 
but which, when the vessel is free from 
the shore, drives it rapidly along. 
This same kind of motion is also ob- 
served in certain parts of man, notably 
in the air passages, wJiich are lined by 
these little bodies constantly waving 
about, and tending to drive any wan- 
dering particle which may have found 
its way into the lung back to the outer air. 

Still, all these kinds of motion, as 
seen in the animal . frame, sink into 
insignificance when compared with 
that induced by the special apparatus 

prepared for the purpose, and which 
we term the muscles ; that is to say, 
the red fleshy parts of an animal. It 
is with this kind of motion we have 
mostly to deal, and this apparatus 
we must carefuUy describe. There are, 
then, two kinds of muscles, one set more 
or less completely under the control of the 
will, the other more or less completely 
beyond this ; the one kind is seen to 
most perfection in the powerful mus- 
cles of the arm and leg, the other in 
such an organ as the churning appara- 
tus of the stomach. It is with the 
former we now must deal, and it will 
be enough, in giving an idea of its 
structure, to recall to the recollection 
of every one how a piece of meat boiled 
for a long time tends to become stringy. 
These strings are the so-called muscular 
fibres, which are themselves, in turn, 
^ made up of smaller and finer threads. 
Tlien, again, each muscle has a 
beginning and an end, or, as they are 
technically termed, an origin and an 
insertion. Most frequently both of 
these are connected with bones, the 
one end with one bone, liic other with 
another ; but sometimes this is not so, 
as in the case of the muscles which 
move the eyeball, one end of which is 
attached to bone, the other to the soft 
structures of the eye. But as it would 
be very inconvenient to carry muscular 
structures from one point to another far 
distant, just as when a barge has to be 
dragged along by horse«, a rope is used 
to transmit the power from the horse to 
the barge, so in the human body certain 
strong unyielding cords are employed to 
transmit it from the muscle to the bone ; 
these we call tendons. Not unfre- 
quently a muscle has a tendon of 
origin as well as a tendon of insertion ; 
but it must be distinctly understood, 
that these are cords merely, which 
serve to transmit force from one point 
to another, and have nothing to do with 
the origin of the force, which depends 
on the shortening of the red muscular 
fibres, a property which is innate in 
them, and which is characteristic of 
them. When we examine all the 
muscles of the body (which number 
upwards of 1,000), especially those of 
the limbs, wo shall find that the one 



extremity of the majority is directed 
tawards the centre of the body, the 
other towards the end of the limb, and 
it is the former which is most frequently 
termed the origin of the muscle. 

If we now trace a muscle and its ten- 
don from its origin to its insertion, we 
shall most probably find that it passes 
over a spot wiierS two bones come to- 
gether. This we term a jotw^, the bones 
being united in two ways, either so 
that the one can move upon the other, 
or so that both are immovable. It is ' 
with the former class we have chiefly 
to deal ; and for our purpose we may 
assume that these joints are of two 
kinds, either ball-and-socket joints, ad- 
mitting movement in every direcUon, 
as in the case of die shoulder-joint and 
hip-joint, or hinge-like joints, such as 
tliose of the elbow and knee, where the 
motions are more limited in their 
character, and are almost restricted to 
one direction. For the construction of 
these joints two things are necessary — 
smooth surfaces of bone, rendered still 
more smooth by a layer of cartilage or 
gristle, the one surface correspouding 
to and fitting into the other, and strong 
bands or ligaments extending from the 
one bone to the other, so as to keep 
everything firmly in its place, and ad- 
mit of only a limited degree of motion. 

Having explained the machinery, so 
to speak, of the human engine ; having 
shown it to consist of certain selt- 
contracting muscles, the pistons as well 
as the boilers of the machine, of ten- 
dons, its connecting rods or belts, of 
joints, the grooves in which the rigid 
bones move and work; we must fall 
back on certain elementary principles 
in order to explain fully the working of 
this wonderful mechanism. In every 
solid body there is a point, which is 
termed its centre of gravity^ which 
being supported, the whole body will 
be so ; and this in a solid corresponds 
to the point where certain lines cut 
each other. In the human body it will 
not be more to one dide than another, 
and will correspond with a plumb-line 
dropped from the head when the individ- 
ual is standing upright. So, again, it will 
be at those points in this line where the 
weights of the head and*heels counter- 

balance each other. Finally, at^e point 
where these two intersect each other, 
and encounter a third line correspond- 
ing with that in which the right side 
of the body balances the left, is the 
centre of gravity. In the human being 
this centre is situated low down between 
the two haunch-bones, but it varies with 
every movement of the body. 

[To bo contintiod.] 

Stimulants. — One of the most re- 
markable phenomena which claim the 
attention of the physiologist, is the ac- 
tion of stimulants on the human or^ 
ganism* It is a well-ascertained fact 
that they are capable of supporting the 
organism in the absence of food ; and, 
whatever the inclinations of individuals 
may have been, or still are, with re* 
gard to their use, it is certain that 
nations of the past and present cannot, 
or, at any rate, do not exist without 
them. Von Bibra, in his preface to 
" Die Narkotischen Gcnuss-Mittel und 
der Mensch," assumes the following: 
— '^Coffee-leaves, in the form of infu- 
sions, are taken by 2,000,000 of human 
beings ; Paraguay tea is consumed by 
10,000,000 ; coca by as many ; betel 
is chewed by 100,000,000; chicory, 
either pure or mixed with coffee, by 
40,000,000 ; cacao, either as chocolate, 
or in some other form, by 50,000,000 ; / 
300,000,000 eat or smoke haschish; 
400,000,000 use opium ; Chinese tea 
is drunk by 600,000,000; coffee by 
100,000,000. All known peoples of 
the earth are addicted to the use of 
tobacco, chiefly in the form of smoking ; 
otherwise by snuffing or chewing." 
In corroboration of the above figures 
stand the repoi'ts concerning production, 
consumption, and taxation of these 
articles, from which a fair inference 
can be easily drawn by anybody doubt- 
ing Bibra's accuracy. 

What people call " bile " is generally 
lobster, clams, or some similar indi- 
gestible food. Fasting, or a dose of 
physic, will remove it. 

More people are killed by too much 
medicine, than are allowed to die for 
want of medicines. 




THE old opinion, that the mineral 
constituents of plants and animals 
owe their occurrence in the various 
organs and tissues to accidental cir- 
cumstances, and that their presence 
is in no way necessary or essential to 
the life of the animsd or plant, has 
ceased to be entertained ; and it is now 
universally admitted that the mineral 
constituents, Uiough existing only in 
minute quantity, are as essential as the 
e^nic elements which enter into the 
composition of the heat^producing and 
flesh*^orming food. But, though the 
researches of modem chemists and 
physiologists have clearly demonstrated 
the necessity for these substances, yet 
their importance, and the necessity (in- 
creased by the small proportion in which 
ihej occur) of adopting such methods 
of cooking our food as may, to the 
greatest possible extent, preserve its 

TokiU L — Showing the Amount of Mineral Matters in Cooked and Uncooked 


mineral ingredients, is constantly over- 
looked* Though the quantity of min* 
eral matter found in the vegetable 
kingdom is small — often less than one 
per cent, of the fresh vegetable — yet 
it is so essential, that its total with- 
drawal from our diet would be followed 
by consequences fatal to health, and 
even to life itself. I have recently 
made analyses of potatoes, turnips and 
carrots, in their raw state and afler 
cooking, in order to ascertain the amount 
of mineral matter which is extracted 
by the water used in the process. 
The results of my analyses are con- 
tained in the following tables, which 
show the amount found in 10,000 parts 
of each vegetable both before and after 
cooking, and the absolute and propor- 
tional amount extracted by the water 
used in the cooking process. 

Potash, • . 
' Soda, . • . • 
Lime, .... 
Magnesia, . 

Oxide of Iron, Alumina, 
Chlorine, • 
SoJpharic Acid, . 
Phosphoric Acid, 
8ilica, ... 

X Total, 










'\ 64.79 


C 88.00 
I 8.17 


































. 12.01 


















TMe II. — Amoufd of Mineral Matter Extracted hy Boiling from 10,000 

jparts of 

Potash, . • . 

Soda, • . • . 

Lime, • • • . 

Magnesia, . • 
Oxide of Iron, Alumina, 

Chlorine, . • 

Snlpharic Acid, • • 

Piiosphoric Acid, • • 

Silica, • • • • 

Total, • 




\ 19.85 






. 0.37 




















Table III, — Percentage of Mineral Matter Extracted hy Boiling from 

Potatoes. Carrots. Turkips. 

Potash, .... 
Soda, .... 
Lime, . . • • 

Oxido of Iron, Alumina, 
Chlorine, . . • 
Sulphuric Acid, 
Phosphoric Acid, . 
SiUca, . . . . 






Total loss per cent, of 
Mineral Matter, 







In looking at the above tables, it 
must be remembered that, within cer- 
tain limits, the quantity and composi- 
tion of plant ashes vaiy according to 
the soil upon which the plants have 
been grown, and that the amount of 
matter extracted from vegetables by 
boiling must also vary greatly with cir- 

The figures in Table I., representing 
the composition of the cooked and un- 
cooked vegetables, are each the mean 
of three analyses. For the analyses 
of the raw substance, 1,000 grammes 
were dried at 120 degrees c, (248 de- 
grees Fah.), the dry residue incinerated 
in a platinum dish, at the loVest possi- 
ble temperature, and the ash thus 
obtained analyzed in the usual way. 
Another portion of 1,000 grammes 
w^as boiled, and, after boiling, the 
liquid was carefully filtered, and the 
boiled vegetable dried, incinerated, and 
the ash analyzed in exactly the same 
way as the uncooked sample. 

Table I. shows the results of these 
analyses; in these the carbonic acid 
of the ash has been omitted, as it is 
not a constituent of the plant, but a 
product of the combustion of its or- 
ganic part. Table II. shows the ab- 
solute amount of mineral matter lost 
by 10,000 parts of the vegetable dur- 
ing boiling, whilst Table III. shows 
the percentage loss of each salt. 

These tables prove to us that there 
is a great loss of mineral matter dur- 
ing the boiling of our • vegetables ; . 
take, for instance, potatoes. Before 
cooking, 10,000 parts of* this vegeta- 
ble contain 83^ of mineral matter; 
after cooking, tLe same quantity con- 

tains not quite 54 parts, which repre- 
sents a loss of about 35^ per cent, of 
the mineral matter originully present; 
In the carrot the loss amounts to 34| 
per cent., whilst in the turnip it is 32| 
per cent. ; so we may conclude that, 
by cooking such vegetables as these in 
the ordinary manner, about one-third 
of their mineral matter is extracted 
and lost. Looking at Table II., we 
find that this loss is ch'^efly in potash, 
and phosphoric and sulphuric acids. 
Of these three substances, potash and 
phosphoric acid are just the most valu- 
able mineral constituents of our food. 
The loss of soda, of chlorine, lime and 
magnesia, is not of much consequence, 
even though it were much greater than 
it appears to be ; but the loss of pot- 
ash and phosphoric acid is of much 
more importance, for we depend en- 
tirely upon our vegetable food for a 
sufHcient supply of these two substances. 
It is quite true that phosphoric acid 
occurs in other articles of food, such 
as wheaten flour, and consequently in 
bread ; still, the supply is not so great 
that we can afford to waste from 40 to 
50 per cent, of that which exists in 
our potatoes and other vegetables. 
Potash is even of more importance 
than phosphoric acid, and if we ex- 
clude; it from our diet, our health 
would quickly fai>. It is in conse- 
quence of eating salted provisions, in 
which the potash is to a great extent 
replaced by soda, and being deprived 
of sufficient vegetable food to supply 
this substance, that sailors become lia- 
ble to scurvy ; and, as a preventive for 
this disease, ships are supplied with 
lime-juice, a liquid which contains a 



large quantity of potash combined with 
certain organic acids. If used regu- 
larly, lime-juice will prevent scurvy, 
and it does so on account of the salts 
of potash it contains. Now, what the 
lime-juice is to sailors, so are the pot- 
ash plants, such as potatoes, turnips, 
carrots, asparagus, cabbage, etc., to us 
on land. Without these potash plants, 
we should be liable to scurvy or simi- 
lar diseases. Potatoes do not contain 
60 much nutriment, nor so much starch, 
as wheat-flour, or many other sub- 
stances, but they contain this potash. 
If we were to discard potatoes and 
similar plants, aai eat nothing but 
bread, we should undoubtedly sufler in 
oar health, because, though bread con- 
tains a large quantity of nitrogenous 
matter, of starch and of phosphates, 
yet it is deficient in potash. If, then, 
these mineral matters are of such 
vital importance, and occur as they do, 
only in very small quantity, we ought 
certainly to take some means to pre- 
vent their waste ; either we should em- 
ploy the water in which our vegetables 
are boiled for making soups, or else 
adopt a mode of cooking which would 
not necessitate the loss of so much valu- 
able material. — Arthur E. Davies, Ph. 
D., in Food Journal. 

Overwork. — One day I asked the 
servant if any person had called, and 
was told some one had. "Who was 
it?" "Oh^ it's the little gentleman 
that aye rins when he walJcs.*^ So I 
wbh this a^e would walk more and run 
leas. A man can. walk farther and 
longer than he can run, and it is poor 
saving to get out of breath. A man 
who lives to be seventy, and has ten 
children, and perhaps five-and-twenty 
grandchildren, is of more use to the 
State than three men who die at thirty, 
it is to be hoped unmarried. How- 
ever slow a coach seventy may have 
been, and however energetic and go-a- 
head the three thirties, I back the tor- 
toise against the hare in the long run. 
I am constantly seeing men who suffer, 
and indeed die, from living too fast ; 
from true, though not consciously im- 
inoral dissipation, or scattering of their 
lives. — Dr, J, Brown's Hints on Health, 

Origin op Hygiene. — According 
to Dr. Lyon Playfair, the study of san- 
itary science in England arose from a 
singular accident. The Court and Par- 
liament were at Oxford, which had been 
recently drained, and the citizens had 
removed all accumulation of filth and 
garbage from the streets, lest they 
should offend the nostrils of their dis- 
tinguished guests. The plague was 
raging at the time, and Oxford was the 
only place which enjoyed ab immunity 
from it. Cause and effect were for the 
first time connected in the public inind, 
which was thus- enlightened for the first 
time as to the nature of what we now 
call pythogenic, or filth-born malaxes. 
Prior to that, the measures recom- 
mended by the council of the physi- 
cians of Paris for the arrest of the 
plague were : — That if a shower of 
rain fell during the day a spoonful of 
treacle should be taken, and that fat 
people should not sit in the sun. Mich- 
elet declares that for several centuries 
during which filth reigned supreme, not 
a man, woman, or child in Europe tpok 
a bath voluntarily and out of a desire 
for cleanliness. Out of this chronic 
and wide-spread filth arose the black 
death, the plague, the sweating sick- 
ness, and other pestilences, the conse- 
quences of bad hygienic conditions. 

Clothes Moths. — ^IJie clothes moth 
has a great dislike to strong light, and 
rarely deposits its eggs in objects ex- 
posed to the full influence of the sun. 
When once the eggs are laid, their cir- 
culation is not to be prevented by pep- 
per, spices, or camphor. Full expo- 
sure of our goods to daylight, and 
protection from damp, are our best 
safeguards against this destruptive 
insect. -^— 

Meat Preserved Nineteen Years. 
Dr. Stein, while lecturing recently at 
Dresden, on the preservation of meat 
and food, produced a tin canister of 
good size, containing butchers' meat 
preserved by Appert's method, and pre- 
pared by him^lf in 185 1 • On opening 
the canister, which had been filled 19 
years previously, the meat was found 
to be as fresh, and full of flavor, as 
when it was first i^laced in the canister. 




F^R months I have suffered excru- 
ciating torments in every possible 
part of my body, but two applications 
of your lotion completely cured me." 
*' After swallowing your pills I was re- 
stored to youth and beauty — in proof 
of this I enclose my carte de visite." 

Such are among the cures announced. 
But who are these wonderful patients ? 
— and who are the fortunate inventors 
of these nostrums? Why should any 
of us pay a five-dollar fee when for ten, 
or at most twenty-five cents, we can be at 
onee delivered from all the ills to which 
flesh is heir, besides having our. exist- 
ence indefinitely prolonged? Alas I 
for one who derives any benefit from 
our quack medical philanthropists and 
their "perfect cures," there are fifty 
whose toothaches continue and whose 
spasms go on twinging in spite of 
draughts find boluses. And yet, when 
a man gets ill, credulity is a blessed 
thing. We have all met those sanguine 
individuals who will not believe that 
there is anything really the matter with 
them. " Tliey have, perhaps, been a 
little out of sorts, but in a day or two 
they will be down-stairs again." Only, 
^ the doctor leaves the house, he whis- 
pers to the confidential man, " Your 
master's very iil — it would be as well 
to get his lawyer to look in." But for 
all that, the sanguine man, who, when 
he is too ill to ride, has his horses 
trotted out before him — or his business 
books brought up-stairs because he is 
** all right," and can look after his own 
affairs, and is not going to put his night- 
cap on before he goes to bed : — such a 
man, every doctor will tell you, has 
a great advantage over your nervous 
subject. He is credulous, but his 
credulity is on the right side ; he may 
not believe in physic, but he does be- 
lieve in health, and not till almost the 
last moment will he be induced to set 
his house in order. V 

The public are exceedingly credulous 
about what can or cannot be done by 
the skill of the surgeon or the physician. 
Indeed, it is every man's interest to be- 
lieve a good deal for his own comfort's 

sake — for any of us may be attacked by 
almost any disease, or may break cor 
bones or get smashed in the train, or 
shot, or go blind or deaf — and in 
looking forward to such-like incon- 
venient interruptions of life and health, 
we say it is the greatest comfort to 
reflect that science cannot only cure 
all sorts of things, but can almost bring 
back the dead to life again. 

Most of our redders may have 
perused a story i^ch recently went 
the round of the papers, about two 
men who were executed. Their heads 
were cut off; and then a cunning sur- 
geon was allowed to step forward, pick 
up one head, clap it on the lifeless 
trunk which was laid flat on a couch, 
sew it on tightly, and apply a vigorous 
current of galvanism to the defunct 
malefactor. His pulse revived — slowly, 
of course, — not long afterwards, he 
winked with one eye, or even both. In 
some months, this medicated Franken- 
stein got up, and, to the doctor's terror, 
began to walk about ; but horror of 
horrors — he had got on the wrong 
head ! — in the hurry and excitement 
of the moment his own head had drop- 
ped aside, and been cleared up with the 
other body. But where is he now? 
The account, which professes to be a 
well-authenticated medical report, for- 
gets t« say ; but doubtless, by-and-bj, 
we shall hear that Mr. Barnum is in 
treaty with this live wrong-headed 
corpse, and we may hope yet to see 
^m, or t^, or (Acwi. (whichever the htal 
and body choose to be called), for 
twenty-five cents apiece. Now, it is a 
fact that many people read this storj 
gravely — for it was stated with in- 
imitable gravity and detail — and, for 
aught we know, many people mav be- 
lieve it devoutly at this moment. 
When Edgar Allan Poe, some years 
ago, wrote his great mesmeric story, in 
which a man on the point of death was 
kept suspended between life and death 
for some months, and then, the reverse 
passes being made, suddenly collapsed 
into the loathsome condition of a 
corpse many months old; this story 



was reprinted in a contemporary dftily 
paper, still in circulation, as a new 
story, and believed in by thousands. No 
doobt this- kind of credulity bestowed 
8pon medical science, physic, and physi- 
dans fills many a fashionable watering- 
place at home and abroad. Of course, 
a good many people affect the invalid 
beoiuse they have nothing else to do, 
and get well under the most elaborate 
treatment, because there was nothing 
the matter with them ; but we must 
not shut our eyes to facts, and we can- 
not deny that the mind exercises .an 
astonishing influence over the body, 
tnd that in this way faith and physic 
together remove mountains of maladies. 

Here b a man who suffers from pains 
in his joints. Of course he must go 
to Sloshenbad at once, and lie in liquid 
mod for six hours per diem, and eat 
nothing but grapes, or drink nothing 
but milk. It is most extraordinary, 
bat his appetite doti improve. The 
hxX is, be expected it to improve. He 
eats with a will, and on principle. 
The whole thing is novel, and he en- 
ters into the novelty with zest. He 
gives his whole mind to it, and what 
we give our whole minds to generally 
MK^eds. He goes home: his joints 
are still stiff and painful. " Oh," says 
the doctor, " the peculiarity of these 
liaths is that you don't feel the benefit 
of them until some months afler you 
get back." The months go by; he 
fiwcies he really is better; but the 
pains come on soon afler the summer 
sets in, and then it is time to try an- 
othei; treatment. This time he is rec- 
ommended the incessant drinking of 
nasty waters ; and so he is off in high 
^irits to Swillen-Brillen. 

Then there comes an autumn, when 
his friends don't know what to do with 
hhn; and the new doctor, who says 
that Sloshenbad is all humbug, and 
SwiUen-BriUen is rank poison, orders 
hun immediately, as an infallible rem- 
edy, to repair to Muckenstadt, whither 
the groaning patient, still hopeful about 
bimself, is conveyed in all haste, and 
where, greatly to the relief of himself 
uid his friends, he dies in about a 

And yet no one can say that he has 

not had a better time of it abroad than 
he would have had if he had stayed at 
home ; and certainly no one can affirm 
that the constant hope of getting well 
may not have kept him alive longer, as 
it certainly did materially contribute to 
his happiness as long as he lived. 

We read the other day an account 
of a gentleman who suffered for years 
from a swelling in his leg, caused by 
the kick of a horse. He underwent 
the " dry earth " treatment (by which 
it must not be understood that he went 
under the dry earth, alias got buried, 
which is, after all, the great remedy) — 
he applied earth to his legs, that Is all. 
" The treatment," we are informed, 
''was continued for three weeks, at 
the end of which time the wound was 
quite healed." We are no scoffers — 
we fully believe it; for such cheap 
cures are of daily occurrence, especially 
amongst the poor, who cannot afford 
more expensive and luxurious treat- 
ment. No one who has not observed 
the curative ^ocess going on can form 
any idea of the results to be achieved 
by peppermint and water. A spider 
wrapped up in butter is almost omnip- 
otent with poor children, and the most 
obstinate of adult-diseases have been 
known to yield at last to incessant 
doses of "julip!" 

Now the moral of all this is, that the 
power of the human will, and the force 
of imagination, once realized by the pa- 
tient himself as well as the doctor, the 
patient is immediately in possession of 
the most powerful means of cure. It 
is not only in self-delusion, it is also in 
self-knowledge that his strength will 
lie. Let him intelligently expect the 
best results from change of air, change 
of scene, and change of diet, without 
ignoring the fact that these changes 
act principally upon the body by re- 
freshing the mind, and inspiring the . 
imagination with new and agreeable 
sentiments. But lastly, we have no 
right to affirm, in the face of repeated 
and constant experience, that ceilain 
waters have not certain curative prop- 
erties, or that certain medicines are 
not in themselves highly efficacious, 
although, for that very reason their 
powers have been absurdly overrated. 




THE gentleman of to-day clothes 
himself in a woollen tissue ident- 
ical in kind with that employed for the 
Roman imperial robes. It may be 
that the best of our modem cloth is 
finer, or it may be not so fine, as the 
Roman Caesars used — the last supposi- 
tion is the more probable ; but as to 
kiud, it is the very same, and made — 
essentials alone regarded — in the very 
same way. 

Variety of names notwithstanding, 
all woven woollen tissues may be di- 
vided into woollen cloth and worsted ; 
and here I would observe that though 
the designation "cloth" is popularly 
applied lo any woven tissue — of flax, 
cotton, hemp, as well as of wool — yet 
commercial people only apply it to 

• cloth manufactured of woollen threads 
in a peculiar way. 

Some of us, perhaps, have heard the 
remark made, or, perhaps, ourselves 
made it, that So-and-so was " out at the 
elbows " ; by which is literally meant 
that the elbow parts of Mr. So-and-so's 
coat have had the nap worn away to 
such an extent that the actual threads 
or yarns of which the garment was 
woven are visible. In new cloth the 
threads cannot be seen, a short fur nap 
hiding them ; so when the threads do 
appear it is time for Mr. So-and-so to 
dispose of his coat as best he can, and 
put himself in communication with 
some tailor artist. Perhaps he has 
a wife, and perhaps his wife has a 
stuff dress. Very well : even though 
madam*s dress be quite new, one can- 
not only see its threads, but if inquis- 
itive, and sufficiently endowed with pa- 
tience, can count the number of them 
in any given space. Still madam is 

* content ; the nature of her material is 
such that one must, and always does, 
see tjie threads — in what, then, is the 
difference? The better to manifest 
what woollen is not, let us see what 
cloth is. Wool is either long or short, 
and for the cloth manufacture, if wool 
be not moderately short, it must be 
shortened artificiaUy. It is next well 
oiled and spun into thread or yarn, 

then woven into a tissue that will be 
cloth by-and-by, though a long way dis- 
tant from cloth when it leaves the 
weaver. The tissue, if examined at 
this stage of manufacture, would dis- 
play its threads just like madam's stuff 
gown does. A coat of this material 
would be threadbare all over, despite its 
newness. Before this material can be- 
come commercial cloth, five chief things 
will have to be done to it. Its texture 
must be closed ; it must be shrunk, 
that is to say, it must be cleansed ; a 
nap must be put upon it ; superfluous 
nap must be shorn off; finally, it must 
be hot-pressed. 

First, as to the closing or shrinking. 
To accomplish this is the fuller's task, 
and he goes to work as 'follows : — He 
takes the material to be shrunk, wets 
it, soaps it, and submits it to the full- 
ins:-mill for a considerable time, — seven 
or eight hours, — under which opera- 
tion the shrinkage is effected. Now, 
bearing in mind the saw-like teeth, and 
the quality of felting, what happens 
will easily be understood. The wool 
fibres are well soaped, and but for their 
serrations all looking one way, they 
would slide upon each other in various 
and irregular directions. Practically, 
however, they can only slide one way, 
namely, with their roots foremost. Tlio 
result is that the saw-like teeth catch 
amongst each other, at every catch 
making the wool fibres shorter, whereby 
the entire texture is shrunk, and, of 
course, proportionately closed up and 
thickened. This result being accom- 
plished, the workman clears away the 
soap, by means of fuUer's-earth and 
water. Being taken from the fullcr*s 
mill, the shrunken material has next to 
be dried. Well, our material, woven, 
fulled, and dried, is not cloth yet, 
though a considerable way advanced 
on its road to cloth. It has no nap, so 
the next process will consist in impart- 
ing a nap to it. This is effected by 
little hooks incomparably finer than 
any hooks man's ingenuity has enabled 
him to devise, the agent used by 
clothiers of to-day, as by the Romans, 



being the hook-like growths of the 
Dtpsacus fuUonum^ or fuller's teasel. 
This plants in grow^, is something like 
a thiijtle, though botanicallj it differs 
from a thistle. It bears round heads, 
each about the size of a small apple, 
and studded all over with fine hooked 
protuberances. Many of these teasel- 
heads being packed together an^ bound 
up tight on a fiat surface, make a sort 
of coinb or currj-«comb, and this was 
the invariable way of packing teasels 
for use in cloth manufacture once. 
They may be also packed on a cylin- 
der, but, however arranged, their use 
)D getting up nap out of threads will 
be obvioiis. Caused to rub against the 
incipient cloth, they scratch out little 
odds and ends of wool, and produce a 
hairy surface. The nap just scratched 
np by the teasel-hooks is of all lengths 
within certain limits. The manufac- 
turer wants an even length, which he 
accomplishes by shearing. Next fol- 
lows hot pressing, which, being done, 
we nmy regard the cloth as made. 

In this place I only consider it neces- 
sary to remark that the dyeing of wool 
may either be performed whilst it yet 
is wool, or else subsequent to its con- 
version into cloth. All highest quality 
doth is wool-dyed, as tailors' placards 
sufficiently inform us. 

In this manufacture sketch I have 
described princif^es, not details, such 
being enough for my purpose. Cloth- 
making, Like cidico-making, would, if 
fully gone into, ii^volve a description 
of much complex machinery. 

Having produced our sample of cloth 
at last, let us pause to consider the ad- 
vantages it has, in certain respects, over 
all other woven materials. Neither 
silk, nor cotton, nor linen, can be felted 
or shrunk by the fuller's art, where- 
fore in closeud^s of texture, cloth — 
that is to say, woollen doth — has an 
advantage over other woven fabrics. 
Tills closeness not only enables it to re- 
pel wet better than silk, cotton, or 
linen, but, independently of any power 
of heat-conduction or non-conduction, 
aids the preservation of heat. Regarded 
as a material for taking up dye-stufis, 
wool is — all points considered — su- 
perior to either silk, cotton, or linen ; 

and here I would observe that, having 
some particular dye to work with, it 
by no means follows that I can tinge 
whatever white woven fabric I like 
with it. Certain dyes that act well on 
wool cannot be made to a.ct on any 
other material. 

In this account of cloth I have de- 
scribed it as cloth ought to be, and as 
the best cloth is ; but human genius is 
an inventive quality, very wonderful in 
its adaptation of means to ends. Of 
this, the modern cloth manufacture 
afibrds some good illustrations : one 
just occurs to my mind. Friend '' Out- 
at^elbows " discarded a coat, we re- 
member. What is the usual destiny 
of such a coat? It will have been 
sold to one of those artists who profess 
to make coats " better ash new" First 
and foremost, the threadbare elbows 
have to be seen to : what will the ar- 
tist do? By friction with teasel-heads 
a new nap could be raised; not so 
good as the original one, of course, but 
a nap of some sort. I am told that 
the more heroic friction of a wire brush 
is practised by these ingenious artists. 
The appearance may be satisfactory 
for a time, but as for the strength of 
threads thus violently treated, the less 
we say abot)^ that the better. Elbows 
having been renovated, and grease ex-, 
tracted from the collar, the coat being 
sponged and "^osed," qomes out— 
professedly better ash new. In this con- 
dition it is sold to adorn the person of 
some new master. Well, time, attrition, 
and the elements work destruction on this 
renovated coat. Off comes the elbow 
nap, and probably the attenuated 
threads giving way, there is a hole. 
If the coat is to be worn any longer, it 
must be mended — patched, and we can- 
not specify any fixed limit to which the 
patching may be carried. A new and 
brilliant destiny awaits that coat — the- 
fabled phoenix would be exactly par- 
allel to what will take place, if only the 
phoenix, instead of burning to ashes, 
were pulled to pieces by a mill. One 
has heard some talk about mills to 
which old people are sent to be ground 
young again — that is of course a 
fable ; not a fable, but altogether a fact, 
is the shoddy-mill, through the inge* 



nious operation of wliich old garments 
of cloth are made young again. 
Shoddy and mungo are terms commer- 
cially given to old cloth and old woollen 
fabrics that have been torn to pieces 
by a toothed mill, and brought to such 
a state that they can be mingled 
with new wool, spun into yarn, and 
woven. Devil's dust is the designa- 
tion popularly applied to both shoddy 
and mungo. 

One would be unreasonable to ex- 
pect the same amount of wear out of 
it as out of new wool, but to be able 
to use it is desirable. Just as old cloth 
and wool stuff can be torn to pieces in 
a mill, so can cotton or any other fibre ; 
accordingly, much of the clothing made 
up by cheap tailors holds cotton amongst 
it. The disfydvantage of cotton in this 
case is threefold. Not only is it a 
worse conductor of heat than wool, but 
it does not shrink on an equality with 
wool, the. consequence of which is 
that when garments of this mixed ma- 
terial are wetted, they contract un- 
equally in different directions, drawing 
the clothes up into a number of un- 
seemly puckers. Another disadvan- 
tage is, that cloth of such mixed ma- 
terial will not take dye-stuffs so well as 
cloth of pure wool. 

I have already intimated that the 
word cloth, or more especially broad- 
cloth, is limited to a fabric of short 
wool, felted or fulled, napped, and the 
nap shorn. Commercial people limit 
the term cloth still more to a woven 
material, the threads of which lie di- 
rect crosswise in respect to each other. 
Thus the woven material called '^ Ker- 
seymere," for example, will, if exam- 
ined, be seen to have a slanting set of 
threads running across its fabric. 

Having disposed of cloth, turn we 
DOW to the numerous class of fabrics des- 
ignated by the general term ^^ woollen," 
but having amongst themselves specific 
names well-nigh endless. Whatever 
,called, and whatever their varieties, 
Woollens are made up of combed or de- 
fetified wool. They have not gone 
through the fulling-mill, and they are 
devoid of nap. All these observations 
apply to what we may call '^ pure race 
woollens/' as here I should observe 

that certain stuffs are known to modem 
conmierce -in which the characteristics 
of cloth and woollen mingle. This is 
effected by the mingling of cloth-wool 
with woollen-wool, thereby producing a 
compound fabric susceptible of fulling. 
We have not forgotten the ingenious 
method adopted for raising a nap on 
cloth. 'A typical woollen fabric, on 
the contrary, is expected to have no 
nap at all, the presence of such being 
a defect. Instei9td, therefore, of coax- 
ing up a nap on this class of goods, the 
little they have is burned away by an 
ingenious process of singeing — done 
with the same object that one singes 
a goose, only by a different method. 

The old plan adopted was to pass 
the woven fabric with great rapidity 
over a red-hot cylinder, for which gas- 
flames now have been extensively sub- 

The first manufacture of woollen 
goods in En^and is first mentioned in 
the records of the year 600 a. d. 
Just as well is the fact established that 
not much progress was effected in this 
manufacture in Britain until the reign 
of Henry I., when a vast number of 
Fleming cloth-workers having been 
driven out of their own country bj 
an inundation of the sea, established 
themselves in England. No historical 
statement approaching this clearness 
can be found in respect to worsted. 
The probability is that at different 
times the two manufactures have inter- 
mingled, passing gradually into each 
otber, just as we now find that certain 
complex stuffs are made half worsted, 
half woollen. In considering worsted 
goods, one must not forget such as are 
knitted, not woven. Knitted caps seem 
to have been men's general head-wear 
up to Elizabeth's reign, when felt hats 
came into vogue. The knitting of 
stockings in England was not practised 
imtil still later, the art having been in- 
troduced from Spain. Although sheep's 
wool has been assumed the sole raw 
staple of worsted goods, yet the hair 
of the lama or alpaca, of the Thibet 
goat, and yet other animals, is woven 
into fabrics to which the general des- 
ignation worsted seems equally applic- 





Iy the Englishman of the 5th August, 
. a very iuteresting series of experi- 
ments, undertaken by Dr. Fayrer, of 
Calcutta, was published. They seem 
to have been carried on with the great- 
est care ; and were valuable, both from 
the variety of antidote which came 
under consideration, and also from the 
fact of their being conducted by profes- 
sioDal men alone, who were, conse- 
quently, well qualified to administer the 
remedies to the greatest advantage. A 
fowl was bitten by a cobra (not a fresh 
one, and which had bitten before). It 
died in seven minutes, although treated 
?rith fifteen drops of strong " Cond/s 
solution," injected by a hypodermic 

A dog was then bitten by a cobra 
mider similar circumstances. In seven- 
teen and a half minutes he fell over. 
Sixty drops of liq. ammonia, sp. gr. 
•959, were injected into the crural vein. 
No improvement was apparent. Forty 
drops more were injected after the 
lapse of ton minutes. In twenty-five 
minutes the dog was dead. 

The external jugular vein of a dog 
was exposeil : forty drops of the liq. 
potas. permanganate (Condy's) were 
injected. After thirteen minutes had 
dapsed he was bitten by a large cobra 
(not fresh, and which had bitten before, 
and had been some time in captivity). 
In one minute the bitten leg was par- 
tially paralyzed. In two minutes he 
ky down. After four minutes, forty 
more drops of the same fiuid were in- 
jected : no improvement efiected. After 
twenty-four minutes, forty more drops 
were administered ; still there was no 
change for the better. In thirty-seven 
minutes the dog was dead. 

A dog's external jugular vein was ex- 
posed. Four drops of the poison of a 
somewhat weakly cobra were injected. 
One drop may have been lost: the 
remaining three entered the system. 
The dog was treated with sixty drops 
of ammonia, injected into the jugular 
vein. No amendment ensued, and the 
dog died in fiily-five minutes. 

VOL. II;— 8 

The jugular vein of a dog was ex- 
posed, lie was then bitten in the 
thigh by a fresh cobrii. In one minute 
symptoms of distress were visible. 
Within six minutes of the infliction of 
the wound he was treated with a solu- 
tion of quinine : sixty drops were in- 
jected of a strength of one grain in 
eight drops. No amendment occurred. 
In eleven minutes the dog was dead. 

Equal parts of cobra poison and liq. 
ammonia, sp. gr. .959, were mixed 
together, and fifteen drops of the mixed 
fluid were injected with the hypodermic 
syringe into a pigeon's thigh. The 
pigeon died in two minutes. ' This is 
very unfavorable to the theory of the 
antidotal action of liq. ammonia. 

Ten drops of fresh cobra poison 
were injected into the jugular vein of 
a full-grown dog. Within one minute 
sixty drops of ammonia were injected ; 
but the action of the poison was so 
rapid that the dog died almost before 
the second injection could be completed. 
In seventy seconds he was dead. This 
shows the frightful virulence of the 
poison ,when administered, in a large 
blood-vessel in 'large quantities. Dr. 
Fayrer here observes : '' How can such 
a death be explained, except by exhaus- 
tion of the nerve centres ? Any theory 
of blood-change is surely totally inap- 
plicable here." 

A pariah dog was bitten in the fore- 
arm by a cobra. A ligature, which 
had been previously placed loosely 
above the part bitten, was immediately 
tightened, and the actual cautery of 
the wound was performed by a piece 
of pointed steel heated to red heat. In 
ten minutes the dog became restless, 
and staggered. Ammonia was in- 
jected into the jugular vein. The 
symptoms became aggravated, and 
death ensued in forty-three minutes, 
in spite of the careful application of 
the ligature. 

A second dog, smaller than the first, 
was bitten, and received similar treat- 
ment, with the exception of the appli- 
cation of ammonia. He died in thirty- 



five minutes. The cobra which had 
ah^ady caused the death of the for- 
mer of these two dogs was made to 
bite 8evcn> fowls and one pigeon, in 
quick succession. Of these, seven 
died, and the eighth, though showing 
symptoms of suffering, eventually re- 
covered. It is curious to notice the 
gradually diminishing virulence of the 
poison on each successive occasion. 
The first fowl died in three minutes, 
the second in ten, the third in eleven, 
the fourth (a very large one) in seven- 
teen, the fifth in twenty-two, the pigeon 
in forty-two, the sixth fowl in forty-nine 

Dr. Fajrrer remarks : — " The cobra 
was neither a very large nor a very 
vigorous one, and yet how deadly ! 
Eight creatures destroyed by a rapid 
succession of bites ! The experiment 
proves that the snake becomes weaker 
by biting, until he becomes exhausted." 

Other experiments, bearing less on 
the main object of this article, were 
also entered upon. A viper was bitten 
by a cobra, but no ill efiects followed. 
A cobra was then made to bite itself 
on the tail, — he also suffered no ill 
effects. A cobra was bitten by another 
of the same species, but with similar 

An attempt was also made to dis- 
cover if the poison of one kind of 
snake could be used as the antidote 
against the power of another species. 
With this view a cat was bitten by a 
viper, and a few minutes afterwards by 
a cobra. The cat died in the usual 
time, and there was nothing apparent 
to show that the virulence of the 
poison was either arrested or stimulated 
by the variety of poison. 

A most exhaustive variety of anti- 
dotes were made use of in the course 
of experiment, yet with what a disas- 
trous result! The deadliness of the 
poison, and the utter inability of the 
remedies to cope with it, is clearly 
demonstrated ; and the knowledge thus 
gained leads one to suppose that the 
recorded instances of cure are the ex- 
ception, — when the deadliness of the 
poison has become exhausted by pre- 
vious attacks; or when sickness, or 
want of vigor, may have impaired its 

power of injury ; or, lastly, when the 
poison penetrates so superficially as not 
to be absorbed into the inner vessels of 
the system. 

Dr. Fayrer's remarks are so much to 
the point, that I do not hesitate to in- 
sert them. 

^' My belief is, that if an animal, 
and probably a man, is fairly bitten 
by a fresh and really vigorous cobra, 
or daboia — [I believe this is a kind of 
viper] — it or he will inevitably suc- 
cumb, unless some immediate and di- 
rect method of arresting the entry of 
the poison into the circulation be prac- 
tised. That such may be done I will 
not deny ; but the two experiments just 
recorded — [referring to the case in 
which ligature had been employed, and 
actual cautery inflicted, without suc- 
cess] — performed with the greatest 
care by two surgeons accustomed to 
such operations, shows that at least it 

is very difficult The same may 

be said of the actual cautery. Unless 
the hot iron enter the puncture directs 
ly after the fang has been withdrawn, 
the poison is already far on its way 
towards the centre ; and the burning, 
though it destroys the tissues and such 
of the poison as may not have entered 
the circulation, can have no influence 
upon that which is already beyond its 
reach. ... To conceive an antidote, 
in the true sense of the term, to snake- 
poison, one must imagine a substance 
so subtle as to follow, overtake, and 
neutralize the venom in the blood, or 
that shall have the power of counter- 
acting and neutralizing the deadly in- 
fluence it has exerted on the vital 
forces. Such a substance has still to 
be found, and our present experience 
of the action of drugs does not lead to 
hopeful anticipation that we shall find 

It was a matter of regret that, while 
making the experiment of an injection 
of equal parts of cobra poison and 
amnK)nia, that of carbolic acid and the 
same poison mixed, should have es- 
caped the notice of the experimenters. 
Suggestions to this effect were venti- 
lated, and a hope was expressed that 
this phase of the experiment would re- 
ceive attention at some subsequent 



time. It was stated that the effect of 
a small quantity of carbolic acid, ad- 
ministered internally, was an almost 
instantaneous death to the cobra. In 
less than two minutes all self-directed 
vitality imd power of movement is 
destroyed, and the paralyzed form only 
writhes in involuntary contortion. In 
a very short time all motion is sus- 
pended, and the snake lies stone dead. 
It was argued (but, it must be confessed, 
it is not at all a necessary sequence) 
that, the effect of the internal applica- 
tion being so decisive, it might have a 
counteracting effect as an antidote. 
Iliough the supposition was supported 
by no conclusive law of induction, it 
was hoped that a trial would be made, 
as in certain quarters considerable con- 
fidence was displayed in the antidotal 
action of this acid ; and it was sug- 
gested that the point should be settled 
determinately in a manner similar to 
that which proved so fatal to the pre- 
tensions of ammonia — namely, by its 
administration in conjunction with the 
poison by injection. I am not aware 
that this has ever been attempted; 
but a trial sufficiently similar was made 
by Dr. Fajirer, at the instance of these 
suggestions. The cobra poison was, 
in the first place, injected into the jug- 
ular vein of a dog, and in almost im- 
mediate succession one of carbolic 
acid was applied; but not with any 
favorable result, or giving evidence of 
any amelioration or any counter-action 
to the virus. 

K we consider the facts which these 
recent experiments have demonstrated, 
we are irresistibly led to the conclusion 
that a man stands a very poor chance 
if he have the misfortune to be bitten 
by any of the more venomous of the 
family of snakes. With the best pro- 
fessional aid at hand at the moment of 
occurrence, the chances of escape are 
alpiost infinitesimal; and under un- 
favorable conditions, when a man is by 
himself, and without a drug on which 
he can depend, his life is as surely 
forfeited as if he had hurled himself off 
the Tarpeian Rock, or tested the theory 
of gravitation from the dome of St. 
Paul's. We have every reason to be 
thankful that snakes are timid, and not 

naturally aggressive animals, and also 
that their attacks are, from their for- 
mation aod the nature of thei» move- 
ments, limited to the lower extremities, 
which are in a great measure protected 
either by leather or loose thick cloth : 
and, thirdly, that their fangs, though so 
exquisitely keen, are not sufficiently 
long to penetrate a strong, stout sub- 
stance, such as the above. A sports- 
man who never neglects the precaution 
of being stoutly shod, and equally pro- 
tected by cloth or leather integuments 
to the knee, has not much to fear from 
the ordinary run of snakes. True, 
there are some venomous types which 
inhabit trees, and drop on their unwary 
victims ; but I am of opinion that their 
number is very much overrated, and 
the localities in whidi they exist very 
restricted in limits. The natural love 
for horrors, which is an invariable 
weakness among ignorant, superstitious 
people, multiplies realities a hundred- 

A gentleman recounted to me the 
horrors of a little snake which haunts 
trees in a certain district of India. A 
retainer of his had occasion to climb 
up into a tree, in a small hole of 
which the little monster had established 
his Penates (household god). In spite 
of exceeding diminutiveness, he at once 
attacked the invader with such rapidity 
and determination that there was no es- 
cape for the unhappy man . The results 
were fearful and immediate : as the 
thunder follows the flash, so was the 
cause and effect in rapid sequence. 
Down the tree the victim fell headlong, 
and the dull thud which announced 
that his body had reached the earth 
was that of a corpse. There is room 
for presumption that the fall might 
have had something to do with such a 
fatal result ; but my informant hastened 
to remove any misapprehension there 
might have been on this point, by un- 
hesitatingly ascribing the whole catas- 
trophe to the subtle venom, which had 
completed its work with the speed of 
electricity. StiU, calm reflection has 
induced me to conclude that his slavish 
adherenpe to the law of gravity con- 
tributed very powerfully to his cal- 



Undeterred by the shocking example 
which had been made of one of his 
domestics, a second was forthwith sent 
up the tree to capture the reptile, if 
possible. By an ingenious contrivance 
the little fiend was snared. A bold 
man, armed, re^tan'u^-fashion, with a 
net of exceedinly fine meshes and a 
stick, scaled the tree. Arrived at the 
hole, he placed the net over the orifice 
so as to bar all exit, and, by cautious 
irritation with the stick, incensed him 
into a second attack. The net received 
him. Once there he was a hopeless 
and helpless captive, and became the 
absolute property of my friend, " Mon- 
sieur le Raconteur." 

Since writing the above, a curious 
anecdote of snake-bite has come to 
my knowledge, which, if true (and I 
have no'reasou to believe it otherwise), 
exhibits most forcibly the fearfully 
rapid action of snake-poison on certain 
occasions. A gentleman, walking in 
his garden with his dogs — a spaniel 
and a terrier — had his attention at- 
tracted by the latter, who, after the 
manner of his kind, was vehemently 
engaged in the pursuit of sport among 
some debris and refuse. The spaniel 
joined his companion, and both be- 
came so actively absorbed in their oc- 
cupation, that their master was induced 
to give them a little aid by clearing 
away some matted briar-bush which 
impeded their investigations. Relieved 
of this difficulty, they soon scratched a 
hole, into which they alternately dived, 
and again retreated as quick as liglit- 
ning, until on one occasion the spaniel 
failed to make good his retreat. His 
master saw a long black form dart out, 
and withdraw itself as rapidly, while 
the dog retired with a yelp. The 
terrier, however, nothing daunted, 
rushed into the hole, and a moment 
afterwards reappeared, with half a co- 
bra in his mouth. The master, being 
now for the first time thoroughly aware 
of the dangerous nature of their antag- 
onist, immediately hurried the dogs off 
to a small pond of water, at the same 
time sending a man to the house for 
ammonia. The spaniel was first ex- 
amined, being dipped in the water to 
cleanse him of the mud with which he 

had begrimed himself. As he was 
drawn out of the water the power of 
the poison asserted itself, and in ten 
seconds he was dead : the moment of 
death being within one minute and a 
quarter of his receiving the bite. The 
terrier was not bitten. It is difficult to 
account for the extreme rapidity of the 
action of the poison, unless we take 
into consideration that the dog's blood 
had, by excitement and exertion, been 
roused into such active circulation that 
it became a much speedier conductor 
of the poison to the nerve centres than 
it would have been had it been in a 
more sluggish state. In any case it 
must be accepted as a most striking ex- 
ample of the power of snake-poison, 
and we could wish for no better to 
complete our illustrations of its fatal 

Surface-oceanic Life. — Those 
who only know the sea under the as- 
pect which it usually presents round 
our coasts, will hardly be acquainted 
with the fact that the surface of the 
ocean forms a world in itself, inhabited 
by myriads of strange and delicate 
creatures, as distinct in its conditions 
from the shore world, as from the in- 
habitants of the dark mysterious depths 
whose oozy plain, shut off from the day 
by three miles' thickness of water, is 
tenanted by the lingering and stunted 
refugees of a world of animals now for 
the most part extinct. The creatures 
which inhabit the surface of the ocean, 
are very many of them bom and bred 
there; others, on the contrary, have 
left their parents at a very early age, 
being carried away from the shore by 
surface currents and drifted out to sea, 
there to pass through ever-changing 
forms, until the time comes for their 
return to shallower pkices and a life of 
grovelling on the ground. 

Good nature is a glow-worm, that 
sheds light even in the dirtiest places. 

Kindnesses are stowed away in the 
heart, like bags of lavender in a 
drawer, and sweeten every object 
I around them. 



Third Paper. 


HAVING fiillj described the con- 
structioQ arid action of the heart, 
the course of the blood through it, and 
the action of .the valves, we will now 
describe the arteries and veins, the 
manner in which the blood passes 
through them, and the duties it per- 
forms, from the time it leaves the heart 
until it returns to it. The arteries and 
veins carry on the great work com- 
menced at the heart, and in form and 
arrangement are not unlike the water- 
pipes which underlie the streets of a 
city ; but in this case there is a second 
or return set of pipes (the veins) for 
carrying the fluid back to the central 
source after it has discharged its office. 
Like these pipes under our streets, the 
arteries start from a large central pipe 
(the aorta), gradually increasing in 
size as they progress outwards, and 
giving off innumerable smaller branches 
for the supply of every portion needing 
the fluid. The arteries take their name 
from Greek words signifying " to con- 
tain air," as afler death they are found 
empty, and the ancients therefore con- 
cluded that they contained air only 
during life. They are tubes cylindrical 
ia form, and composed of three coats or 
layers joined closely together, so as to 
make a strong elastic tube. The out- 
side coat is composed of loose cellular 
tissue, and serves mainly as a protection 
to the vessel ; the middle coat consists 
.largely of circular muscular fibres, 
which have an involuntary power of 
contraction aiding the flow of blood by 
their compression ; and the inner coat 
is of very fine smooth membrane, 
which by ita character lessens the fric- 
tion of the blood in its passage, and 
presents to the fluid the best fitted sur- 
face which could be devised for facilita- 
ting its passage over it. This is the 
general Ibrm and construction of the 
arteries, and is the same all over the 
body, the only difference being in size. 
The aorta is the large arterial trunk 
rising from the left ventricle of the 
heart, and into which, you will remem- 

ber, the blood is poured by the contrac- 
tion of the ventricle. It passes ob- 
liquely upwards from the heart for an 
inch or two, curls over, and then de- 
scends on the inside of the spinal column 
to near its base, where it divides into 
the large arteries, that in their tuiii 
subdivide and supply all the lower 
portion of the body. Just afler leaving 
the heart it gives off the branches which 
supply the head, face, and upper ex- 
tremities, and lower down it sends off 
very large branches to the lungs, stom- 
ach, kidneys, liver, intestines, and 
spleen; in fact all the organs of the 
chest and abdomen are supplied by 
branches directly from the aorta itself. 
All the arteries of the system either 
have their origin directly from the 
aorta, or are subdivisions of arteries 
which do arise from the aorta. The 
only exception to this is the pulmonary 
circulation, which is distinct from the 
general circulation, so you will see 
that with this exception, that to what- 
ever part of the body the blood finally 
goes, it must first pass into the aorta, 
just as the water which is brought into 
a city comes in first through -one large 
pipe, and is then distributed through 
the different streets by smaller pipes, 
and finally to the houses by still smaller 
branches leading from those under the 
streets ; so the arteries starting from 
the aorta, and subdividing, branch off 
into every part of the system needing 
nutrition, until finally they become so 
minute as to be visible only with the 
microscope. The arteries communicate 
very freely with each other by branches 
called anaztamoits^ so that if by any 
chance an obstruction should occur in 
a vessel, the circulation would be carried 
on by the blood passing out through a 
branch above the obstruction into some 
neighboring artery going to the same 
point as the obstructed vessel, and thus 
the circulation of the part would not 
be interrupted. Owing to disease in 
their walls, the surgeon is occasionally 
obliged to tie an artery, thus complete!^ 



obliterating its channel ; and if some pro- 
vision of this kind did not exist, the circu- 
lation would be completelj suppressed, 
and the part deprived of blood would 
perish. Most of tlift arteries are very well 
protected from external iiyury by being 
situated deep in the tissues, covered 
with muscles, etc., and at the joints are 
nicely llnbedded and covered in cushions 
of loose fat, so that the bending of the 
limb cannot injure them. In the knee 
and shoulder, for example, they run 
under the joint, and thus are not near 
as much exposed to injury as if passing 
over it. 

The blood passes through the ar- 
teries in a full, rapid stream, distending 
them to their fullest capacity ; this 
stream is continuous, as before the 
aorta is emptied of the blood poured 
into it by one contraction of the heart, it 
is filled again by another contraction, 
but at every contraction the column of 
blood receives an " impulse " which is 
transmitted through the whole arterial 
system, distending the elastic walls of 
the vessel, and by its force partially 
lifting the artery from its bed, and 
causing it io strike against the tissue cov- 
ering it. (See Plate 5 — Second Paper.) 

Place your finger over any of the 
arteries where they approach the skin, 
as in the temple, wrist or ankle, and ymi 
can distinctly feel this impulse, which 
is the " pulse " that the physician wishes 
to feel when he places a finger on the 
wrist or temple of a patient. Of course 
the beating of an artery in any part 
of the body indicates the state of the 
circulation, and the physician only 
selects these as the most convenient 
places for examination. (The subject 
of the pulse was spoken of fully in the 
second paper.) 

The strong impulse which the blood 
receives from the contraction of the 
left ventricle, seuds it forwards through 
the arteries, and united with the mus- 
cular contraction and elasticity of their 
coats, and the favorable state of the 
smooth internal coat, insures its pas- 
sage onwards until it reaches the cap- 

The Capillaries, 
These are a set of small vessels 

forming a network between the ter- 
minations of the arteries and the 
veins, and through this network the 
blood passes from one set of vessels to 
the other. They are about one three 
thousandth (1-3,000) of an inch in diam- 
eter, and therefore can be seen only 
with the microscope ; and even with its 
assistance it is difficult to define their 
exact Umits, their connection with the 
arteries and veins is so close ; but they 
are placed between the fine extremities 
of the two vessels as a means of commu- 
nication between them, and the blood 
passing from the terminal branches of 
the aileries, passes through the capillary 
tubes to reach the veins. They are 
very numerous, sometimes amounting 
to several hundred in a square inch of 

The Veins, 

The veins are the return pipes which 
carry the blood back to the heart after 
it has discharged its office. The blood 
flows through the arteries from the 
heart, but through the veins it flows 
towards the heart, so that, properly 
speaking, the veins begin at the extremi- 
ties of the body where the arteries end. 
Plate 6, with this paper, will help to 
illustrate this subject. It is only a 
diagram intended to convey an idea of 
the difference between the arterial and 
venous circulations. You will see that 
the veins begin at the termination of the 
arteries, and that the capillaries are 
interposed between them. The vessels 
which form the origin of tho veins are 
as fine as the branches in which the 
arteries end; a number of those fine 
branches unite, forming a larger vessel, 
which soon meets another, unites with 
it, and thus they keep on increasing in 
calibre as they approach the main trunk. 
The veins have the same number of 
coats as the arteries, but they are very 
much thinner and less elastic, and there 
is but very little, if any, muscular fibre 
in the middle coat. The inner coat is not 
unlike that of the arteries, and answers 
the same purpose. The veins arc more 
numerous than the arteries, and their 
united capacity is considerably greater. 
The large arteries and veins, generally 
lie close to each other, and are some- 


Lnni arcnlatlaD. 

Fnlnwnnry Artwy. 
Sight Aulcta. 

Pnlmonuy Tdiu. 
Loft Anrlcla. 

Bod; ClranlatloB. 

Diagram representinf difTcronco between urtcrial and Tcnoni circnlations. The 
left, or light aide, reprcscnti the red, arterial blood pasaing throuj^h the arterica from the 
left side of the heart. The right, or darlc aide, ahowB the dark venoua blooi) returning to 
right aide of heart, and the commcncemcDt of the veins ut the tOTininalion of the arteries 
«itb Qto capillariea between. 

times enclosed together in a thin sheath ; 
occasionally two veins will accompftcy 
a single arterj. But few of the veins 
which are seen through the skin have 
arteries accompanying them, tliese ves- 
sels returning the blood from the skin 
and supet-ficial tissues only, and they 
empty themselves into some of the 
deeper veins. The veins of the head 
and upper extremities all unit« in a 
large vessel called the superior vena 
cava, and those from the lower part 
of the body cn4 in a similar vessel, 
called the tnferior vena cava, both of 
which empty into the right auricle of 
(he heart. The vena cat™ correspond 
to the aorta, hringiog back to the 
heart the blood carried out by the 
aorta, nod thus the circuit is completed. 
It is then sent to the lungs through the 
pulmonary artery, purified, returned to 
left side of heart, and sent through the 
Borta again. 

The Valva of ihe Veint, and their Se- 
lalion to the Column of Blood. 
Tbc course of the blood throng the 
reins is very much slower than when 
paaeing through the arteries, and its 
movement is not attended with any 

motion or pulsation perceptible outside 

the vessel, as the impulse it received 
from the heart's contraction has beea 
expended in its course through the ar- 
teries and capillaries, and the blood is 
forced to pass onwards through the veins 
towards the right side of the heart, by 
tlie pressure of the column of blood in 
the arteries and capillaries behind which 
is always flowing onward, and its 
movement through the veins is aided 
by the power of "aspiration," which 
the beait possesses ia the dilatation of 
Ihe right auricle after it has been 
emptied, as when this chamber expands 
it sucks the blood in from the large 
veins opening into it, operating just like 
the bulb of one of those rubber syringes 
that are filled by squeezing the bulb in 
the hand, immersing it, and allowing it 
to expand, when it draws the water up 
and fills itself; andtbis is just the action 
performed by the right auricle in draw- 
ing the blood onwards from the veins. 
There is another provision for insuring 
the onward progress of the blood, a 
very simple, yet efiectual one, similar 
to that existing in the heart to keep 
the blood in its proper coarse there, 




These are of the simplest form, being 
merely a little flap of membrane on 
each side of the vein. The arteries 
possess none of these, and they are not 
needed there on account of the force 
with which the current of blood is pro- 
pelled through them ; but in the veins, 
in many cases the column of blood 
would be likely to fall back by its own 
weight, or when any obstruction oc- 
curred. These little flaps of membrane 
lie quietly along the side of the vessel 
pointing in the direction in which the 
blood naturally flows, and oppose no 
obstacle to its onward progress ; but 
any movement of the fluid backwards 
forces the valves down into the centre 
of the vessel, and they effectually check 
its movement in that direction, but are 
readily opened again by the forward 
movement of the blood. — See Plate 7. 

^ ^ 



1 2 

Diagram showing effect of current of blood on the 
valves of the veins. Plan 1, valves open ; e, g, f, h, 
walls of vein; no, attachment of valves to the walls 
of vein ; b-d, fire© ends of valves, with carrcnt of 
blood, !, passing between. Plan 2, c, g. Pi q. walls 
of vein; I-n, attachment of valves; m, valves closed 
together by the retreating current of blood. The 
arrows indicate the coarse of the current. 

The necessity for these valves will 
be seen in the facts that the column of 
blood has lost the impulse derived from 
the heart's contraction, which sent it 
forcibly through the arteries ; the ab- 
sence of muscular fibre in the coats of 
the veins to compress the fluid and 
force it along, and the fact that in all 
the veins of the lower part of the boc^y 
the column of blood is obliged to move 
upwards towards the heart against the 
force of gravity. The pressure and 
movements of the muscles surrounding 
the veins help to force the blood on- 
wards, although if it were not for the 
provision existing in the valves, this 
pressure would send the blood back- 

wards as well as forwards. After death 
the veins are found collapsed, on ao- 
count of the thinness of their walls, 
while the arteries retain their form 
almost intact. 

Office of the CircvlcUion* 

It may be asked, what is the use of 
this system of vessels, arteries, veins 
and oapillaries, that has been described? 
What is the object gained by the won- 
derful and complicated movements of 
the heart, and of what benefit to the 
body are its chambers and its valves? 
And, finally, What is the blood ? This 
I will try to explain, and will answer 
the last question first. 

The Blood. 

The blood is known to most people 
only as a thick red fluid, which flows 
from a wound or other injury, and the 
sight of it excites very unpleasant seil- 
sations in many individuals. That 
" blood is thicker than water," is really 
true, and if you could see a drop under 
the microscope, and could test it chem- 
ically, you would find that it was a very 
complicated mixture. As we find it in 
the arteries, blood is composed of more 
than a dozen different constituents. 
Like all the other fluids of the body, 
its great bulk consists of water, — the 
proportion being about 900 parts of 
water in each 1 ,000 parts of blood. In 
this 900 parts of water is dissolved some 
9'partA of the different salts of sodium, 
potassium, lime, and magnesia, and 
the balance consists principally of the 
substances known as albumen and 
fibrine, with some fat. These are all 
suspended or dissolved in the water of 
the blood, and form about one-half of 
the whole bulk of the fluid, and this 
mixture is called the plasma. But all 
these materials named form a nearly 
colorless solution, — the color and con- 
sistence of the blood being given to it 
by the *' blood globules," which ore little 
discs about 1-3,000 of an inch, or less, 
in diameter, which float in the- plasma^ 
and are composed of nearly similar 
materials to the plasma^ with the addi- 
tion of rod coloring-matter which con- 
tains iron. It is the large number of 
these globules present in the blood that 



give it its red color. They form nearly 
one-half of the whole bulk of the fluid ; 
and when a drop of blood is placed 
under the microscope, they are seen 
lying together in little piles, like rolls of 
coin. In sickness these blood globules 
are greatly diminished in number, and 
this is the cause of the paleness so 
familiar in long illnesses. 

How NtUrition i$ carried on, 

AH these materials which have been 
named as present in the plasma of the 
blood, and in the globules, are the sub- 
stances &om which our bodies are built 
op and renewed. The bones, muscles, 
brain, nerves, heart, lungs, stomach, 
skin, and indeed every portion of the 
body, are made up of this same albumen, 
fibnne, fat, soda, lime, potash, mag- 
nesia, and water, that we find in the 
bbod. How do they get into the blood ? 
They are all contained in the food which 
we eat, which, afler being completely 
dissolved in the stomach and rendered 
fit for mixture with the blood, is poured 
into the large veins near the heart, and 
each of the different materials finds its 
place in the portion of blood to which 
it belongs. For example, we eat a 
piece of meat and a slice of bread and 
boUer. These contain albumen, fibrine, 
fat, lime, soda, and potash ; in short, all 
the ingredients of which our bodies are 
composed. This food is digested, and 
a few hours after we find it in the 
blood wiih its difierent constituent parts 
in their appropriate place. You will 
remember that the arteries and capil- 
laries through which the blood flows 
permeate every part of the tissues, and 
those tissues appropriate the proper 
elements from the blood as it passes 
through them in the capillaries. The 
more a part is exercised, the more 
plentiful is the supply of arteries and 
capillaries in that part, and the greater 
is the amount of nutritive principles 
sent to that part ; and, consequently, its 
growth is much greater. Witness the 
arm of a blacksmith or boatman, the 
neck of a porter who carries loads on 
his head, and the leg of a pedestrian or 
baUet-dancer. In every process of this 
kind, of course there is a waste or refuse 
material produced, which it is the office 

of the veins to remove with the blood, 
which, by the time it reaches them, is 
deteriorated by constantly giving off 
its vivifying properties, and receiving 
the waste products. The veins take no 
direct part in the nutrition of the body, 
but simply carry off the impure blood 
to the lungs, to be purified and fitted 
for going through the system again. 
There are other means of eliminating 
impurities from the blood, in addition 
to the lungs, viz., by the skin and kid- 
neys ; but as these are separate func- 
tions, and require extended explanation 
for the perfect understanding of them, 
I merely notice them in passing. 

Difference between Arterial and Venous 

The blood contained in the arteries 
is of a bright vivid red color, strongly 
charged with oxygen, and with the 
elements necessary for maintaining the 
body in health ; while that in the veins 
is bluish and dark, heavily loaded with 
carbonic acid gas, and the products of 
the constant wasting of the tissues is 
poisonous, and goes to the lungs to get 
rid of this. When a blood-vessel is cut, 
a glance at the wound tells whether an 
artery or vein is severed, the blood 
issuing in quick, intermittent jets, cor- 
responding to each beat of the heart, 
and is thrown some distance from the 
wound if it comes from an artery. If 
from a vein, it flows in a full, steady 
stream, welling up freely from the 
wounded vessel, and is not thrown in 
jets or spurts. In each case the ap- 
pearance presented, corresponds to the 
motion of the stream in the respective 
vessels. Arteries are not as liable to 
injury as veins, on account of the su- 
perior strength of their coats, and their 
deeper situation in the tissues. A 
smart blow on the outside of the skin 
will rupture some of the superficial 
veins; and the dark venous blood es- 
caping into the tissues under the skin 
produces the ecchymosis^ or " black and 
blue " appearance, so familiar to every 


This, then, is the office of the circu- 
lation—to carry the nutritive elements 



contained in the food we eat, after it is 
prepared in the stomach, first to the 
longs to be purified, and then to all the 
tissues of the body, building them up 
and renewing them ; and then carrying 
off the waste produced by the wear and 
tear of the system. 

I am aware that the description I 
have given is but an imperfect one, but 

it is impossible to give a thorough ex- 
planation unless the reader is yersed in 
Anatomy and Physiology ; and, as a gen- 
eral description, is the only one that can 
be given in a journal suited for the 
reading of all ; if the reader can gain 
a knowledge of the main principles 
governing this great function, the object 
of these papers will be attained. 


I HAVE lately heard of several cases 
of persons purchasing microscopes, 
and soon becoming afraid to use them, 
lest they should^ permanently injure 
their sight. Now, if the instruments 
they used were of even moderate merit, 
the fault of not seeing objects comfort- 
ably lay entirely with themselves. It 
often happens that a beginner with a 
microscope operates chiefly with trans- 
parent objects, and floods the field with 
excess of light. Any of the parafiin 
lamps in ordinary use for microscopical 
purposes, or such excellent oil lamps as 
those which Mr. Pillischer supplies, 
give an immense deal more light than 
is wanted to exhibit any ordinary ob- 
jects properly, either by transmitted or 
reflected illumination, and when this 
light is concentrated by a bull's-eye, 
and reflected by the stage mirror in full 
blaze, it is by no means wonderful that 
the eye is speedily fatigued. A few 
objects may be advantageously shown 
under brilliant illumination, for the 
display of remarkable beauty in the 
variety of colors they present. The 
wing case of the diamond beetle and 
iridiscent minerals belong to this class, 
and they should be viewed as we look 
at flashing fireworks, or the lustre of 
jewels, for a brief space only, and not 
in a prolonged stare. As soon as it is 
desired to make out details of their 
structure, the light should be reduced 
to a moderate pitch. 

There are microscopic difficulties 
which involve prolonged effort to deci- 
pher obscure markings, or indications, 
with which beginners should have no- 
thing to do, and which experienced 
microscopists must cautiously deal with 

if they value their own natural optical 
apparatus. Men who will pit up night 
after night, poring for hours over vexa- 
tious diatoms, have no right to complain 
of the microscope if they experience a 
deterioration of vision. Had they spent 
the same time in attempting to read 
very small print in a strong blaze, they 
would have been equally successful in 
wearying their visual organs. Such 
practices are an abuse of the eye, to 
which, no doubt, a penalty is attached. 
The perfection of microscope work 
consists in its imitation of natural 
vision. The instrument should extend 
the range of action of the eye upon 
small objects ; but should not — except 
for brief purposes of display — materi- 
ally alter its character. Now, the 
first thing to be attended to is to keep 
both eyes open, whether the micro- 
scope be used for single or binocular 
vision. It is unnatural for two-eyed 
people to shut one eye, and then make 
a prolonged observation. There are 
occasions on which it is very desirable 
to shut one eye for a few moments, as 
in taking an accurate aim with a rifle, 
but with the microscope, or telescope, 
all that is necessary is to acquire the 
habit of paying attention to the im- 
pressions made upon the eye which 
looks through the instrument, and to 
disregard what the other may see. 
Some people have no difiiculty in so 
doing, while others can only succeed if 
assisted by a little contrivance which 
many observers have long employed. 
I mean a shade covered with black 
cotton velvet, of which several forms 
have been devised. The simplest, 
which I have used for many years, is 



made of a piece of thin cardboard 
about as big as a small quarto page, 
covered with black cotton velvet, and 
pierced with a bole through which the 
tube of the microscope, just below the 
eye-piece, is introduced. I have found 
that every one upon whom I have ex- 
perimented, and who felt it difficult to 
keep both eyes open, and only look 
with one, could easily accomplish it by 
this means. There is no doubt that 
the eyes suffer considerably from the 
common practice of dosing one, while 
looking through a microscope, or teles- 
cope, for any length of time, with the 
other, and it is, therefore, well worth 
while to acquire the more prudent 
habit I have described. 

The next point to be considered is 
the method of modifying the light, and 
diffu^ng it agreeably through the field. 
When artificial light is employed to 
show transparent objects, it is rarely 
advisable to throw it as it comes from 
the lamp, or the bull's-eye, direct upon 
the object. For low powers and large 
objects, the best contrivance I know is 
one which Mr. Browning made by my 
direction a few years ago. It consists 
of two discs of glass, ground on one 
side only. The two ground sides are 
placed in contact, and the edges 
cemented, to keep them in position and 
exclude dust. A freshly ground sur- 
iace of good glass is remarkably 
pleasant to the eye; the cool dead 
liv'hite appearance it gives to transmitted 
light is very agreeable, but its perform- 
ance is deteriorated by handling the 
ground surface, or by impact of dust. 
To keep the surface in a fresh state I 
adopted the method just described, 
which works excellently with 4-inch, 
3-iuch, 2-inch, and l^inch powers. 
For two-thirds and half-inch powers, 
and smaller objects, I take an ordinary 
slide, and place in the middle of it, on 
one side, a piece of white foreign 
post paper, as wide as the slide, and 
about an inch long, saturated with 
spermaceti, and covered with a piece 
of thin glass, to keep it clean. A few 
thin chips of spermaceti are placed 
upon the paper, and melted into it over 
a lamp. When this spermaceti-paper 
slide is employed, the side bearing the 

paper is turned downwards^ and the 
slide carrying the object placed on the 
uppermost side. By this means the 
texture of the paper is kept out of 

It is much more common for persons 
to injure their sight by the misuse of 
transmitted light with transparent' ob- 
jects, than for them to experience in- 
convenience from any excess of reflected 
illumination ; and this results, not so 
much from any greater facility in the 
exhibition of objects by the last-named 
method, as from its being one less 
frequently employed in conjunction with 
lamps. The reflected illumination ob- 
tainable in open daylight, out of the 
direct sun, is never too strong, and is 
well adapted to objects of considerable 
size. To see smaller opsujue objects 
clearly and comfortably several contri- 
vances are advantageous. Licberkuhns 
have lately been neglected by many 
observers to an unreasonable extent. 
For low powers, a silver-side reflector, 
mounted on a brass stand with univer- 
sal motions, is extremely handy. 

No microscopist should be satisfied 
without acquiring skill in the various 
methods of illumination ; and where 
objects admit of being seen in a variety 
of ways, all should be tried, as each 
will bring out some special feature. 
WhUe an object is indistinct, the ob- 
server should avoid paying much atten- 
tion to it. He should simply watch 
the chamges he can effect in attempts 
to show it properly, and reserve steady 
examination imtil all the adjustments 
are in order. Few persons are aware 
how much the eye is under control of 
the mental faculty of attention, and 
what advantages they may gain by 
acquiring the habits recommended in 
the preceding remarks. — H. J, Slackj 
F. O. S., B. M. S.^ in Student. 

HosPTTALS. — "Do not build for a 
long futurity. Buildings for the recep- 
tion of the sick become permeated with 
organic impurities, and it is a real 
sanitary advantage that they should be 
pulled down and entirely rebuilt on a 
fresh site periodically." 




THERE is probably no article of 
diet with regard to the origin of 
which there is so much eonfosioa in 
the popular mind as that forming the 
subject of our present article. Cocoa 
nuts and cocoa nibs, cocoa nut milk 
and cocoa oil, are ail believed to be 
denved from one common source. 
This confusion arises principally from 
the circumstance, that the name of the 
substance which we use as a beverage 
should really be spelt cacao^ and is as 
totally distinct a term, when so written, 
from cocoa, as the two plants thus 
confused are, from each other. The 
cocoa outs, so greedily devoured in 
our childhood, axt ncUurd or in the 
form of cocoa nut rock, are the produce 
of the cocoa palm, or cocos nuci/era ; 
while, on the other hand, the cocoa 
which we boil for breakfast is the seed 
of the cacao iheohroma^ a dwarfish, 
although pretty tree, and very differ- 
ent from the gigantic palm already 
mentioned. The cacao tlieobroma is 
found chiefly in South America and in 
the West Indies, but is also cultivated 
to some extent in the Isle of France, 
its principal commercial varieties be- 
ing those of Trinidad, Guayaquil, and 
Bahia. It bears a fruit not unlike a 
melon, in the soft rose-colored sub- 
stance of which the cocoa seeds are 
imbedded. The seeds themsalvcs are 
about the size of a large almond, but 
somewhat thicker, and not so regular 
in shape. Those from the two first 
mentioned districts are covered with a 
brown and bitter husk, enclosing a 
somewhat pasty and deep-colored mass, 
which constitutes the useful {Portion; 
while the seeds from Bahia, on the other 
hand, are smaller, lighter in color, and 
have in the interior a tinge of greenish 
brown. The number of seeds in the 
cocao fruit varies according to the dis- 
tricts in which the tree is cultivated. 
When ripe, the fruit changes from green 
to yellow, and it is then gathered and 
opened ; and the seeds, having been taken 
out, are dried in the sun, or are sub- 
jected to a slight fermentation, by bury- 
ing them in the earth before being dried. 

Cocoa is mannfactared for domestic 
use in various ways : — 1. The seeds 
are very gently roasted till the flavor 
is well brought out, and, after being 
winnowed from the husks, are broken 
into little pieces. In this form they 
are known as cocoa nibs. 2. The 
seeds, having been roasted, are ground 
between hot rollers into a paste, and, 
after due admixture with starch and 
sugar, the paste is either desiccated 
and reduced to powder, — in which 
case it is called " soluble," " homoeo- 
pathic," " digestive," or any other at- 
tractive name — or it is dried in 
masses, forming flake and rock cocoas. 
8, The roasted and winnowed seeds 
are ground to paste, sugar and sea- 
sonings added, and cast into moulds, 
in which form they are called choco- 
late. Dr. Johnston states that the 
separated husks are largely imported 
into England, under the name of 
'' miserable," and used for adulterating^ 
common cocoas, to form a cheap and 
agreeable beverage for the poorer 
classes ! The composition of cocoa is 
shown by the following analysis by 
Mitscherlich : 



Cacao Red, . 


Cacao Butter, 

. 49.00 


. 15.00 


. 16.00 





Ash, • 





It will be noticed that cocoa pos- 
sesses, like tea and coffee, an active 
nitrogenous principle called iheobrO' 
mine. This principle resembles theine 
or caffeine, inasmuch as it is also white, 
crystalline, and bitter ; but it contains 
more nitrogen even than these sub- 
stances, and is consequently more ac- 
tive. All that has been said about 
the sustaining and other properties of 
theine and caffeine, in our tea and 
coffee articles, may be considered as 



applying also to theohromine. Cocoa 
likewise contains a volatile oil, similar 
to that of coffee ; but it differs from 
coffee in possessing in a high degree 
£Eit and gluten, both of which tend to 
increase its nourishing properties. 
The fat, commonly called cocoa butter, 
may be extracted from the seeds by 
reducing them to a pulp, and squeez- 
ing them between two heated metallic 
plates, when the fat melts and is 
pressed out. It is of the consistence 
of suet, white, and semi-transparent, 
and melts at 86 degrees Fah. It is 
principally stearin, with a little olein, 
and Las a peculiarly agreeable taste 
and odor. 

From all this it is evident that cocoa 
is an exceedingly nourishing, but, at 
the same time, a very rich article of 
food. Dr. Johnston, with good rea- 
son, compares it to milk, as follows : 

Fat or butter, • 
Casein or gluten. 
Sugar or starch, 
Ash, . . . 
Theobromine, . 

Cocoa. MUk(dried). 

. 51 . . 24 

. 21 . . 36 

. 22 . . 87 

. 4 . . 4 

. 2 . . 




But cocoa being richer in fat than 
milk, and, consequently, more indigesti- 
ble, some sanitary authorities are pre- 
pared to approve of its dilution, by means 
of starch and other such substances. 

This is, however, sometimes pushed 
to an extreme extent, and Dr. Nor- 
mandy says: "Unfortunately, how- 
ever, many of the preparations of the 
cocoa nut sold under the names of choc- 
olate, of cocoa flakes, and of chocolate 
powder, consist of a most disgusting 
mixture of bad or musty 'cocoa nuts, 
with their shells, coarse sugar of the 
very lowest quality, ground with po- 
tato starch, old sea biscuits, coarse 
branny flour, animal &t (generally 
tallow, or even the sediment of melted 
tallow). I have known cocoa powder 
made of potato starch, nK)istened with 
a decoction of cocoa nut shells, and 
sweetened with molasses ; and dioco- 
late made of the same materials, with 
the additions of tallow and ochre. I 
have also met with chocolate in which 

brick-dust or red ochre had been in- 
troduced to the extent of 12 per cent. ; 
another sample contained 22 per cent, of 
peroxide of iron, the rest being starch, 
cocoa nuts, with their shells and tallow. 
Messrs. Jules Gamier and Harel as- 
sert that cinnibar and red lead have 
been found in certain samples of choc- 
olate, and that serious accidents had 
b^en caused by that diabolical adultera- 
tion. Genuine chocolate is of a dark 
brown color; that which has been 
adulterated is generally redder, though 
this brighter hue is sometimes given to 
excellent chocolate, especially in Spain, 
by means of a little annato. This 
Edition is unobjectionable provided 
the annato is pure, which, however, is 
not always the case." Out of sixty- 
eight samples examined by the Lancet 
commission (England), thirty-nine were 
found to contain ferruginous earths. 

Let us see how far this dreadful pro- 
gramme is in reality carried out now- 
adays, by glancing at the following re- 
sults of our analysis. But before do- 
ing so, we will explain the simple 
process we have adopted for obtaining 
our results. The mode of procedure 
does not pretend to absolute accuracy 
to a fraction, but will be found in prac- 
tice easily performed and understood. 
It is as follows : — 

1. Twenty grains «f the cocoa are 
weighed out and dried for some hours 
at a steam heat. The dry cocoa is 
then weighed, and the loss of weight, 
multiplied by 5, gives the moisture. 

2. The residue (from 1) is digested 
for two hours, with frequent agitation, 
in four ounces of ether, and the latter 
having been poured off as closely as 
possible, the cocoa is again dried, 
weighed, and the loss of weight ascer- 
tained and calculated as above. The 
loss equals fatty matters. 

8. The residue (from 2) is digested 
for six hours in ten ounces of cold 
water, and again dried and weighed as 
before. This loss represents sugar, 
theobromine, and other soluble constit- 
uents ; and it is evident that, if sugar 
of adulteration be present, the loss of 
weight will be greatly increased. 

4. The residue (from 3) is boiled 
for an hour in ten ounces of water, to 



which half an ounCe of hydrochloric 
acid Itas been added, and once more 
dried and weighed. The loss in this 
case consists of starch, cocoa red, etc., 
and lierc the starch which has been 
purposely added is discovered. 

6. A few grains of the cocoa are 
burned on a crucible lid, and the color 
of the ash is observed. If this be de- 
cidedly red, then ochre or some such 
coloring matter has been employed. 

As we have already remarked, al- 
though the process cannot pretend to 
absolute truth, yet a very close approx- 
imation can be thus obtained, espec- 
ially if samples of pure cocoa be first 
treated in an exactly similar manner. 
This we have done, and the following 
results represent an average of several 
such experiments : — 

Moisture, .... 4.5 

Soluble in ether (fat), . . 48.5 
Soluble in water (sugar, etc.), . 11.8 
Soluble in acid (starch, etc.), . 18.8 
Bcsidue insoluble (cellulose, etc.), 16.4 


The color of the ash was a light gray, 
and no foreign starch was visible under 
the microscope. Of thirty-one sam- 
ples of cocoa analyzed, only one an- 
swered to the analyses of pure, decor- 
ticated cocoa; two, however, might 
be regarded as ^od samples, and two 
as specimens of pure cocoa deprived of 
its oil, and one to which desiccated milk 
had been added, thereby slightly in- 
creasing the fat and sugar. Four sam- 
ples showed not only that the quantity 
of real cocoa had been reduced to the 
lowest minimum, but that ochre or 
some such ferruginous earth had been 
added for coloring. On the whole, the 
picture is one not calculated to re- 
assure the cocoa consuming portion of 
the public. 

Now we are brought face to face 
with the question : Ought this addition 
of starch and sugar to cocoa to be re- 
garded as an adulteration ? If, on the 
one hand, we take the word adultera- 
tion to mean the mixing of anything 
hurtful or deleterious with an article 
of food, the answer must be in the 
negative, because not only is the starch 
harmless, but it supplies a want in the 

article itself, besides dilating its rich 
and somewhat dyspeptic qualities. In- 
deed, this admixture has been regarded 
by an eminent food authority as '^ a 
skilful chemical adjustment, made 
without chemical knowledge, as the 
result of long and wide experience." 
But, on the other hand, if we take 
adulteration to mean the mixing of 
anything (even if it should be benefi- 
cial) with an article of diet, without 
distinctly setting forth the fact, the 
present style of cocoa manufacture be- 
comes a sophistication. With the 
greatest desire to let this matter down 
gently, as we have no wish to hold al- 
most all the cocoa manufacturers up 
to public reprobation as sophisticators, 
we cannot escape the fact that many 
prepared cocoas are advertised as ** gen- 
uine," nor can we help harboring a 
shrewd doubt that the comparative 
prices of cocoa and starch had much 
more to do with the ^' skilful chemical 
adjustment," than a real desire to ben- 
efit the public. We should advise the 
many respectable firms engaged in the 
cocoa trade to call their cocoas plainly 
and distinctly prepared cocoas^ or by 
some such term as would convey the 
true impression of tljeir nature. This 
would be very much more sensible than 
denominating them ^'genuine," "sol- 
uble," or "homoeopathic," etc., when 
all the connection they have with sol- 
ubility simply consists in the amount 
of soluble matter added as a diluent, 
and with homoeopathy in the small 
amount of real cocoa which they give 
at a dose. 

We now proceed to the consideratii j 
of the facilities aflTorded by the microi 
scope for the detection of adulteration 
of cocoa, those offered by chemistry 
having been already shown. On ex- 
amining a seed of cacao theobroma, we 
notice that it consists, like all seeds, of 
an outer membrane, or husk, enclosing 
the useful portion of the seed itself. 
This latter is covered by a thin skin, 
penetrating into its substance, and di- 
viding it into irregular portions, called 
lobes. In carefully prepared cocoa, 
entirely deprived of its husk, we have, 
therefore, only to look for the struc- 
I tures exhibited by the lobes, with their 



covering, and also those of the embryo, 
which exists in one portion of seed, so 
imbedded as not to be separable in the 
process of decortication. It thus fol- 
lows that, under the microscope, we 
may meet with three distinct structures 
in good cocoa, and these we will notice 

1. Tht Structure of the Thin Memr 
hrane. — This will be observed to con- 
sist of a mass of angular cells, filled 
with oil, and much resembling the 
similar cells in genuine cofiee. This 
membrane is usually of a brilliant dark 
golden color, and Xhe edges of the cells 
appear to stand out somewhat from the 
rest of the structure. 

2. The Structure of the Lobes. — 
These consist entirely of ovate cells, 
filled with innumerable starch granules. 
The starch corpuscles are very small, 
and generally rounded, but no distinct- 
ive markings can be seen upon them, 
except by the highe stpowers of a very 
fine instrument ; and even then, it is 
only on some of the granules that a 
spot or hilum can be oWrved. These 
cells of starch are also somewhat 

3. The Structure of the Embryo. — 
This consists of broken and irregular 
tissues of cells, but which have a char- 
acteristic appearance. They are usu- 
ally of a more delicate color than the 
other structures, and frequently exhibit 
a most beautiful pink tint. 

The most abundant of all these forms 
are the starch cells; but' all of them 
ought to be present in a good sample. 
The chief use to which the microscope 
can be applied, besides that of proving 
the existence or otherwise of cocoa in 
the sample, as above described, is the 
detection of starch which has been 
added as an adulteration. It will be 
observed that the starch granules of 
other substances are very much larger 
than those of cocoa, and at the same 
time exceedingly characteristic in 
shape. * 

To examine any sample of cocoa, it 
is only necessary to mount a few grains 
on a glass slide, with water, in the 
usual way, and look at it with a ^inch 
power and "A" eye-piece. Masses 
of red coloring matter, such as ochre, 

etc., can be ejwily detected by the mi- 
croscope ; but for the detection of 
sugar, it is best to employ the process 
of solution already described. Half an 
ounce of good cocoa, stirred up in a 
pint of water, allowed to settle, col- 
lected on a piece of blotting paper, 
dried afr a low heat, and weighed, 
should not lose more than 50 grains at 
the very most. 

We cannot leave this subject with- 
out a word in favor of the excellent 
idea lately introduced, namely : that of 
selling pure cocoa very finely ground, 
and deprived to a considerable extent 
of its oil. As we have already pointed 
out, the richness of cocoa was a bar to 
its use by dyspeptic persons, and had 
thus led to some authorities even ap- 
proving of the " skilful chemical ad- 
justment," or in plainer language, the 
"diluting and adulterating it with 
starch and sugar." But we most de- 
cidedly hold that this admixture is not 
a chemical adjustment at all, as it is 
simply replacing one carbonaceous 
matter by another, and, by so doing, 
diluting the whole substance, and thus 
materially reducing the percentage of 
the important nitrogenous constituents 
of the cocoa. The most sensible way 
is undoubtedly to express a portion of 
the fat, and thus to leave an article in 
which all the remaining cojistituents 
are not only retained, but their per- 
centage increased in a high degree. 
We would therefore counsel our read- 
ers to prefer, in every case, a cocoa 
thus prepared ; as, if an increased 
proportion of fat is desirable, it can be 
ecisily attained by making their bever- 
age with milk, instead of water. We 
have already given a comparison, on 
Dr. Johnston's authority, of cocoa and 
milk, which we now repeat, with the 
addition of a column for cocoa, pre- 
pared in this manner : — 

Ooooa Dried Ooooa 

Nibs. Milk. Essenoew 

Fat, ... 51 24 2bK 

Casein, . . 21 85 81^ 

Sugar and starch, 22 87 83X 
Ash, ... 4 4 6 
Theobromine, .203 

So we thus see that the analogy i» milk 
is rendered much more perfect by the 
process of fat extraction. 





WIIY is it that we must refrain 
from eating new bread, as if it 
were poison ; unless, indeed, one hap- 
pens to possess the stomach of an 
ostrich and the constitution of d rhinoc- 

Every one knows how palatable is 
the steaming loaf fresh from the bake- 
house, and we can all remember with 
what eager eyes we regarded as school- 
boys the new loaf, as it stood in its 
unshapely modesty, wreathed in vapor, 
in the cupboard. Which of us, during 
his melancholy days of satchel and 
Latin-root-hood, has not eyed the for- 
bidden morsel with an eager craving 
out of all proportion to its merits ? — a 
craving which seemed to develop and 
increase as our loved and venerated 
mother assured us that new bread was 
decidedly unwholesome for little boys. 
And when a crummy slice from a two 
days' old loaf was placed in our un- 
willing hands, smeared and diagramed 
as it usually was with molasses or other 
saccharine decoy, and we were told how 
good it was for us, — but for the mo- 
lasses, how odious it seemed! Prob- 
ably this repugnance was strengthened 
when we recollected how many other 
unpalatable circumstances were daily 
happening, — all for our good. We 
were hurried to bed at the most ob- 
jectionable hours ; we were reminded 
in the morning of the sluggard, his 
complaining voice, and his unhappy 
end ; we were soaped, scrubbed, bo- 
lused, and birched, — all for our good ; 
80 that, schoolboy-like, we sometimes 
longed to make a surreptitious trial of 
the bad, by way of a change. Never- 
theless, as a rule, our watchful parents 
and maiden aunts almost invariably 
succeeded in defeating our cunningly 
contrived schemes, especially those 
having for their object the consumption 
of new bread. 

Now, why is new bread unwhole- 
some, or rather, how does it happen 
that its alleged unwholesomeness is only 
experienced here and in England ? In 
Paris or Vienna, even the most dys- 
peptic eat, with a feeling of perfect 

safety, the exquisite new bread, which 
is usually baked three times a day and 
served fresh with each meal. So fer 
from the cry being raised, "Waiter, 
some stale bread," the gar con who 
dared, either accidentally, through hy- 
gienic belief, or from motives of 
economy, to fetch yesterday's rolls, 
would have to run the denunciatory 
gauntlet of the table, and make certain 
of retiring copperless at the hands of 
the diners, even if no worse fate over- 
took him. Can it be that our climate 
is inimical to the production of bread 
in the highest state of perfection — that 
our flour is inferior to, or our bakers 
less skilful than theirs ? Something is 
evidently wrong, so it may be interest- 
ing to look into the chemistry of bread- 
making here, previously to describing 
how they manage the production of 
the staff of life in the south of sunny 

When wheat is ground and sifted, it 
gets divided into bran and flour. The 
bran is the outer coating of the grain, 
which resists the crushmg of the mill- 
stones longer than the interior, but 
when reduced sufficiently to pass through 
the sieves, so darkens the color of the 
whole as to render it inferior in market 
value, although really superior in nu- 
tritive qualities to the white flower 
alone. For the former reason it is 
generally sifted out, and sold for fatten- 
ing farm stock. The flour consists of 
the interior. J£ pure flour be mingled 
with a sufficiency of water to moisten 
it, a little yeast and salt added, and the 
mass kneaded thoroughly together, 
then placed in a warm atmosphere, it 
ferments and increases in bulk. Car- 
bonic acid gas is disengaged in the 
substance of the dough, which speedity 
becomes cellular. Placed in a hot oven, 
the swelling increases until the ma^ 
has nearly reached 212*^ Fahr., when 
fermentation is arrested, the bread re- 
taining the shape it has then assumed. 
This fermentation is the result of the 
chemical action which yeast exercises 
upon mbist flour, in changing a portion 
of the starch ii^ sugar, and then con- 



Terting the latter into alcohol and 
carbonic acid. The dough being glu- 
tinous and highly elastic, the gas can- 
not escape, so the mass swells and in- 
creases until, the heat killing the yeast 
plant, further evolution of gas ceases, 
while the alcohol evaporates and is lost 
in the oven. 

But flour contains other nitrogenous 
substances than gluten, and others non- 
nitrogenized, besides sugar. Such sub- 
stances readily undergo transformation, 
acting in turn as ferments, converting 
the starch into dextrine and sugar, and 
occasionally into lactic acid. When 
diy flour has been, through any accident 
or carelessness, exposed to heat and 
moisture, the albumen it contains passes 
into this peculiar condition, and is in- 
capable of yielding good bread ; be- 
cause, during the manufacture, the 
oonversiou .of starch into dextrine and 
sugar, which always happens in a 
limited degree, then occurs on a large 
scale. The bread produced is sure to 
be saccharine and sodden, being desti- 
tute of lightness, porosity, or cellular 
division ; besides having acquired a 
dark and objectionable color, owing to 
the presence of diastase, should there 
have beeu a slight admixture of bran. 
In order to counteract the injurious 
action of diastase, alum is .sometimes 
employed, which enables bakers who 
are unscrupulous to use many qualities 
of infericfr flour, which, they excuse 
themselves by saying, would otherwise 
be wasted. 

The dy^>ep6ia so frequently com- 
plained of ailer eating some descriptions 
of bread, whether new or old, may 
easily be accounted for. A gentleman, 
who was in the habit of visiting a cer- 
tain town, found himself invariably 
seized with pain in the stomach when- 
ever he took his meals there. Suspect^ 
log the bread, he caused an analysis to 
be made, when sulphate of lime was 
detected in considerable quantity. The 
baker asserted hia innocence; but a 
search of the miller's premises revealed 
a large quantity of plaster of Paris. 

Without entering on the discussion 
of the question as to what the effects 
of the habitual use of alumed bread on 
the digestive organs may. be, it is 

VOL. n.— Q 

sufficieo^ for our present purpose to note 
the fact that, as a rule, our bread has 
too much yeast introduced into it, 
undergoes too little kneading, and that, 
by the aid of a mineral substance, in- 
ferior, or even damaged flour, inay be 
made to do duty in bread-making as if 
it had been sound, and of prime 

About six miles from Seville, is 
situated the pretty and highly pictur- 
esque viDage of Alcala de Guadaira, 
which supplies the City of Oranges 
with bread. Let us halt for a brief 
period at the house of our worthy 
friend Panaderos, and watch the prep- 
aration of that delightful compound, 
which every traveller in the south of 
Spain has remarked as being so pleasant 
to the eye, so agreeable to the taste, 
and nourishing to the system. His 
wife and daughters are seated on low 
benches in the porch, sorting the wheat, 
which they separate both carefully and 
with expedition, consigning every ob- 
jectionable grain to a basket reserved 
for the purpose. Singing some musical 
old ballad, and laughing merrily as 
they continue their light and pleasant 
emplojrment, their lustrous eyes, blush- 
ing cheeks, pearly teeth, neatly braided 
hair, scrupulously clean small hands, 
and bright fanciful attire, remind one 
of the pretty little tea-pickers of China, 
warbling their favorite Moh-li-Hwa or 
Jasmin Flower amidst their heaps of 

When ready, the wheat is passed 
through a mill on the premises, driven 
by a blindfolded mule, having a string 
of bells attached to its neck, which 
keep up a monotonous tinkling so long 
as it paces its round; and when it 
stops to rest, it is again set in motion 
by the cry, *' arre, mula." The whole 
arrangement is as primitive, simple, 
and unpretending as that in use, ac- 
cording to the delineations on Egyptian 
sculptures, two thousand years ago. 
The resulting flour is passed through 
three sieves of different degrees of 
fineness, the wires of the last being so 
close together that only the pure flour 
is sifted through. 

Evening is Uie time for bread-making 
at Alcala de Guadaira, when the female 



portion of the community may "be seen 
in their own houses making dough, into 
which, in contradistinction to our 
method, only a minute quantity of 
leaven is introduced. " A little leaven 
leaveneth the whole lump," we are 
taught in Scripture ; here it is practised, 
— whereas at home, in order to avoid 
the labor of kneading, which it must 
be admitted is very severe, many of 
our bakers, where carbonic acid machin- 
ery is not employed, use as much yeast 
for one batch of bread as those simple 
people consume in a week. The dough, 
being ready, is placed in bags, and con- 
veyed on 'the backs of mules to the 
great village oven, which is conveniently 
situated so as to accommodate the 
tlirifty house-wives around. It is there 
divided into three-pound lumps, which 
are tossed on a long narrow table. 
These are immediately seized by a 
multitude of sturdy brown bakers, who 
knead each portion with all their 
strength for about four minutes, passing 
it on from one to another, until it has 
gone under the knuckles of all. Here 
again the process is similar to that of 
preparing tea, and reminds one strongly 
of the long rows of stalwart manipu- 
lators seen in the tea districts of China, 
making the fragrant leaf ready for 

Such is the energy which those 'pwnr 
aderos infuse into their work, that in 
course of time the palms of their hands, 
and the second joints of their fingers, 
bristle with corns; and the guttural 
" aha, aha," uttered by them as they 
thump and squeeze the yielding, gi^ate- 
fully smelling billows, is suggestive of 
the exclamations breathed by the hard 
working tea-bearers among the moun- 
tain defiles of Hounan and Oopack, as 
they trot down with their precious bur- 
dens to the various shipping ports. 

Immediately on leaving the knead- 
ing table, where the lumps have, as a 
final process, been shaped into loaves, 
they are transferred to the oven. It is 
heated with wood, mingled with twigs 
of sweet marjoram and thyme, vast 
quantities of which cover the adjoining 
hill slopes, scenting the air with their 
rich perfume? There being no fire un- 
der the oven, the bread is never burned, 

the hottest period being when the loaves 
are introduced, which, being full of 
moisture, quickly acquire a crust that 
protects the crumb. 

In this primitive Spanish village it 
is evident that an answer, to our in- 
quiries has been found in the simple 
words — pure' flour, little yeast, much 

Improper Handling op Children. 
— It is often painful to observe how 
little children are handled. It is not 
an uncommon practice for parents and 
nurses to catch them suddenly by the 
hand or arm, and drag or hurl them 
over some difficult spot, such, for in- 
stance, as a mud hole, or over a brook, 
if in the country ; — or from the steps 
of a horse car to the pavement, or 
over some broken place in the pave- 
ment, or street ; or over the gutter, if 
in the city, without a single thought 
about what the consequences might be 
from such procedure. 

If parents and nurses who are guilty 
of such conduct will, by way of exper- 
iment, just allow themselves to be sud- 
denly suspended by the wrist or arm, 
and at the same time hurled across a 
given space, they will have taken the 
first lesson in reference to the impro- 
priety, not to say barbarous and brutal 
character, of such a practice. 

Bathing. — A cold bath is invigorat- 
ing when it is speedily followed by a 
sensation of warmth. Cold baths are 
dangerous to the old and feeble. It is 
dangerous to plunge into cold wat^ 
when the body is cold or chilly. 
Warm baths are relaxing, and should 
not be taken in the morning. 

Temperature. — Excessive heat, 
long continued, is detrimental to health. 
Excessive cold, long continued, is less 
prejudicial, except to the old and feeble. 
Sudden changes of extreme tempera- 
ture are not necessarily injurious. 

In general, the best temperature for 
health is that in which one cannot be 
comfortable for any length of time with- 
out exercise. With most persons this 
is a temperature of from 58*^ to 638 





NOT a summer passes, during which 
a large oumber of individuals do 
not fall victims to certain disorders of 
the digestive apparatus. Yesterday a 
person may have been seen perfectly 
well, and to-day we hear of his death : 
— died last night, of so and so. The 
very large number of children which 
the summer furnishes to fill our cem- 
eteries throughout the country, is really 
appalling. But when we ask from 
what, or whence arise these sad phe- 
Domena, we meet with difficulties at 
the very threshold. The causes are 
too numerous, and the reasons so varied, 
that we cannot enter into detail ; but, 
in general, they may be all compre- 
hended aud included in three words, — 
Ignorance^ Indifference^ Carelessness* 
This, however, is very much easier 
said or written than the evib remedied 
which they comprise ; and the same is 
also true of all those affections which 
can be styled by the wholesale *desig- 
nation — summer complaints. 

The greater mass of intelligent ig- 
noramuses, as a matter of course, not 
only know a certain sure cure for so 
and so, but can explain with the great- 
est ease the most incomprehensible 
phenomena. Ignorance is bliss in many 
instances. There is scarcely an old 
woman who cannot cure summer com- 
plaint ; there is not a dry-goods clerk, 
railroad conductor, or letter carrier, 
etc., who did not know that hot brandy 
punch, ginger-tea, or elixir of so and so, 
or of eating so and so, had cured so 
and so, in such particular case of so 
and so. Consequently summer com- 
plaint is the easiest curable thing in 
the world ; especially if you yourself 
have not just now got it. In this latter 
' case it is often a little difficult, and oc- 
casionally disagreeable, even sometimes 
funeral inviting. But how does it hap- 
pen, that in spite of all the most sure 
and unfailing cures and remedies, the 
^eath reports remain the same ? Not- 
withstanding the fact that almost every- 
body has seen or heard of different 
seemingly dangerous complaints being 

readily cured by a household, or patent 
remedy, punch, ginger-tea, etc., the 
disorders comprised under the head- 
ing summer complaints furnish to sci- 
entific men a field of difficult study in 
order that each case may be unfailingly 
comprehended and correctly managed. 
It sometimes occurs that the seemingly 
most dangerous complaints are nothing 
more than a temporary spasm of the 
nerves, which would yield to almost 
any kind of treatment ; while other 
cases, — seemingly simple diarrhoea, or 
a slight occasional pain in the abdomen, 
— are followed by death. 

The various causes of such difficul- 
ties are not really understood by any 
of those who have them. One knows 
that cucumbers are sure death, but dies 
in consequence of ice-water : another 
eats no fruits whatever to avoid diar- 
rhoea, and dies of inflammation of his 
bowels; another protects his children 
from almost everything ; to lose them, 
nevertheless, of cholera infantum or 
scarlet fever ; in short, when we come 
to the point, every one knows all about 
it ; but no one id certain whether he 
may not be sick to-morrow himself. 

If we look into books for medical 
practice^ we find numerous affections 
relating to the intestines well arranged 
and classified. We have a delineation 
of the symptoms, %tc., of gastric com- 
plaints, of liver complaints, of diar- 
rhoea, of dysentery, of cholera, of chol- 
era infantum, of colic, of constipation, 
of enteritis, of peritonitis, of typhus, 
of. typhoid, etc., etc., etc. We also 
find a large number of manipulations, 
remedies, etc., well recommended for 
each particular affection aud its symp- 
toms. Suppose we shoiild take up ail 
that has been written about the above 
well-defined disorders, know all the 
symptoms, and all the remedies that 
have ever been invented, we might well 
afford to treat any of them ; but if we 
should be asked. What is cholera? 
what is typhus? what is diarrhoea? that 
would be a very different matter. Our 
answer tiiight be — cholera, or so and 



so, is a complaint which has such a 
history, and such and such symptoms, 
and such post-mortem appearances, and 
such and such remedies ; and it is quite 
possible to answer such questions so 
well as to be able to pass an ordinary 
medical board of examiners, and yet 
to know nothing about it. When a 
person, or even a physician, tells us 
that so and so has the cholera, or 
diarrhoea, or typhoid fever, we cannot 
know exactly what he means, although 
we have read a good deal, and have 
heard still more about it ; and we will 
tell you a secret, which you can keep 
or not, just as you please. No one else 
knows muck about it any way, save that 
they are words invented by necessity, 
"What ails him. Doctor?" asks the 
wife. " A case of typhoid, with undeci- 
ded symptoms, madam ! " Madam is 
satisfted, but understands no more about 
it than she would had the answer been in 
Chinese ; por do we suppose thai the doc- 
tor knows just what he means — only 
that it will be quite satisfactory to 
madam. Any number of physicians 
may agree in every particular in ref- 
erence to* a case of typhoid, and yet 
7iot know what they themselves really 
mean. Such is the position of the 
general practice all over the gloT)e. 

The books for medical practice, with 
all their learned definitions and nice 
distinctions in their delineations of 
summer complaint, we find altogether 
unsatisfactory, and throw them over- 
board. In the lighLof Anatomy, with 
its necessary appendices of Physiology, 
Chemistry, etc., and with the aid of a 
little common sense, let us look at this 
subject from another stand-point. In 
place of names, books, authorities, 
wonderful medicines, or newly recom- 
mended modes of treatment, we will 
place before us a canal (the intestinal) 
of from 21 to .27 feet in length. This 
canal we find, on examination, to be 
constructed with lai^e glands attached 
to it all along, connected with different 
nerves, blood-vessels, membranes, fat^ 
cusiiions, etc., in the most peculiar 
manner. We are astonished about the 
complications of this wonderful ma- 
chine, but find that not a single part of 
it is useless or superfluous. We now 

begin to comprehend a great many 
things that were entirely unknown to 
us ; and that there is no end to all the 
incidents that might occur in such 
complicated machinery mider certain 

We are now able to understand how 
extremely difficult it is to calculate all 
the possible derangements which must 
follow an almost endless variety of 
accidental causes, which may very 
easily occur through some little mis- 
take. But as yet we have seen and 
learned comparatively nothing. We 
now take the microscope, and ob- 
serve an entire new field of study. 
What appeared at first to the naked 
eye as a solid mass, is now seen as still 
more complicated machinery, even to 
its smallest details. We now see 
blood-vessels, of which we had no 
previous conception; — fine nets of 
nerves spreading under a beautifully 
arranged gland which absorbs or ex- 
cretes the vital fluids ; we observe the 
blood-cells floating busily along through 
their channels, getting caught here and 
there, ^shaping into different forms to 
pass a narrow place. On the slightest 
touch of a nerve, we observers contrac- 
tion of the gland with simultaneous 
excretion of its products. Upon con- 
tinued irritation, we observe more 
blood flowing towards such gland, and 
it swells in proportion until it interferes 
with the business of its neighbor. We 
press upon the blood-vessel, and a 
darker appearance is quickly observed, 
cell upon cell seems to press in until 
the vessel is filled up to the next branch ; 
— if we hold on long enough, a clot is 
formed by which this vessel is made 
impassable. . . . We inject some for- 
eign substance into the veins of the 
foot, and after five minutes we see it 
pass before us, mixed with the blood 
which now shows a different activity, 
while its flow seems irregular and. 
spasmodic; — by and by we observe 
the flowing to become slower and 
slower, until it ceases altogether. We 
look at it with the naked eye, and ob- 
serve a little red patch, but no more. 
Thus we niiay continue to amuse our- 
selves until we begin at once to reflect, 
and to think of the consequences of 



80ch traDsactions. (Supposing the same 
should happen in ourselves, what should 
we do? We have already seen too 
much to be fooled any longer with 
mere names, remedies, and nonsense. 
We know that the observed irregular- 
ities which we brought about artifi- 
cially, cannot be removed by a simple 
dose of castor-oil or salts, nor by any 
infinitesimal dilutions of a humble bee. 
Having once examined and seen into 
the minuteness, extreme delicacy and 
nicely of the machinery, we are afraid 
to fool with it any more. It is with us, 
as with the boy who could laughingly 
torture a poor bug, until once he ex- 
amined and studied it thoroughly; 
when, after the knowledge gained, he 
carefully avoided stepping upon it ; so 
with ourselves, having gained a knowl- 
edge of the machinery of our body, we 
avoid abusing it. 

A child suddenly becomes" very sick ; 
— being call^ to attend it, we find a 
beautiful child lying on its bed, asking 
for help from its mother, and crying as 
^ tve enter, from fear and from pain. 
What is the matter? No one knows 
much about it, — the child has vomited, 
^irows the head around, cries when 
trying to go to stool, and refuses all 
kinds of food. There is no fever, but 
the child looks frightened and anxious. 
On examination, we find its abdomen 
swelled and hard ; we feel the motion 
of the intestines ; evidently the child 
suffers pain. Should we not give 
opium, and a dose of castor-oil? We 
mi^t, but we dare not. Shall we try 
HomiCBopathy ? It will do no harm, at 
any rate, and perhaps it might be of 
service. Or shall we try a warm bath, 
•with a battery in it? Or a dose of 
calomel, and zay that it was Homoeo- 
pathic medicine? Or perhaps some 
worm medicine might not be bad. 
Chloral being the latest discovered and 
newest remedy out, we might try it, 
and, if successful, publish something 
idx>ut it; it would give notoriety! 
We might rub something on its boweb. 
WhOe we thus soliloquize, an old aunt 
comes in; she has had a number of 
children of her own, some of whom 
liave died. " Why don't you give it an 
injection, Doctor?" '*Yes, madam" 

(we did not think of it just now when we 
were soliloquizing), "an injection can 
do no harm ; — an injection of equal parts 
of sweet and castor-oil, mixed with a 
sufiicient quantity of warm water, with 
a little soap in it." We remember hav- 
ing read about applying hot wet cloths 
to the abdomen ; so we order this to be 
done. " Dont you prescribe, or give 
some medicine?" asks the mother. 
Yes, we must have some medicine ; so 
we prescribe some peppermint-water, 
three drops every hour. Before the 
bottle arrives, our child seems better ; 

— the iiyection produced a full dis- 
charge, the abdomen is less swollen, 
the child is more quiet, and falls asleep 
and must not be awakened. Afler 
three hours it awakes and smiles — we 
give it three drops of peppermint- 
water, tell the mother and aunt "<o 
he very carefuV* with the child, and 
call again next day. The chUd now 
meets us on the steps perfectly well. 
Very hard case ! ! ! "Whdt was the 
matter with the child. Doctor?" "Oh ! 
it had an attack of spasmodic colic, 
which would have resulted in summer 
complaint or enteritis." * 'Oh yes, I un- 
derstand — it is quite dangerous, is it 
not? " " Yes, madam I " She under- 
stands, und we don't — but nevertheless 
are called to another child having the 
same symptoms. Ah, now we know 
what to do — we prescribe ; — an injec- 
tion, hot cloths, and peppermint-water, 
as before. But this child will not 
sleep ; — we try again, but to no pur- 
pose. What now? We give castor- 
oil. It is vomited up, the pain be- 
comes more severe : we give opium ; 

— is thrown up ; — we try brandy with 
tartar^emetic ; — is thrown up also. 
Things are Ijecoming alarming and 
desperate, we call in counsel ; — try 
everything, but all to no purpose, — 
the child dies on the fourth day. Upon 
post-mortem examination we find that 
the intestine has pushed itself up into 
itself about ten inches (intussusception). 
We now see that there was no use for 
our remedies in this case ; there was 
no help this time. Everybody is satiis- 
fied but ourselves, — we do not know 
much after all, and feel a little ashamed, 
but must not let it be known, as H 



would not do! "We ought to have 
kuowQ all about it. The fu'st child, 
in playing with other children, had 
been laying with the abdomen unpro- 
tected upon the cold and damp ground, 
thereby reducing the temperature of 
the intestines, until spasmodic contrac- 
tion of the nerves which govern the 
motion of the intestines took place. 
Our treatment was therefore a correct 
one, and the child got well. The other 
child had not chilled its bowels by 
exposure. Post-mortem examination 
would have shown inflammation (ob- 
structed capillary vessels) of the brain, 
which the child had got from some acci- 
dent unknown to us ; the seeming diffi- 
culty in the bowels being only reflex 
action from the brain. 

These two illustrations are sufficient 
to convince any one that the very same 
symptoms may arise from widely dif- 
ferent causes ; aud that the secret of 
all appropriate and successful treatment 
must come»from a thorough knowledge 
of this subject. Therefore, to give 
specific remedies for summer complaint 
in any or all of its almost endless forms, 
is not only quackish, but foolish and 
abominable. No one can correctly 
treat any disorder, whatever its name 
or symptoms may be, without thor- 
oughly understanding the minute anat- 
omy of the parts aflected ; — this is a 
study the largeness of which can only 
be comprehended properly by the one 
that undertakes it. 

The following is about all that can 
possibly be said on this subject : If a 
mother, or any other person, wishes to 
avoid in themselves or their children 
any disorder of any kind, it is abso- 
lutely necessary for them to understand 
the general rules of dietetics aiid di- 
gestion. To think or reason compar- 
atively, is the next best aid for correct 
self-actions. This is the only way by 
which to avoid any such fatal disorder 
as summer complaint. If, however, 
anything of the kind should occur, 
the following manipulations are most 
strongly recommended. Until a good, 
common-sense physician, who has a 
competent knowledge of anatomy, can 
be procured, let wet hot cloths be ap- 
plied to the abdomen : it is always 

harmless. For obstinate constipation 
of the bowels, use nothing but warm 
injections (except by advice of a com- 
petent medical man). 

Never attempt to arrest suddenly any 
diarrhoea by any kind of medicine, how- 
ever highly recommended : diarrhoea is 
only the consequence or result of the dis- 
order, and not the disorder itself. One 
of the greatest mistakes which is com- 
mitted by physicians, as well as laymen, 
is the premature arresting or removal 
of symptoms, without comprehending 
their cause and nature. Thousanib 
die annually of this foolish mistake. 
In case no physician that is worthy the 
confidence of the affiicted can be ob- 
tained, the following is allowable : Take 
peppermint water, and dissolve a mod- 
erate quantity of gum-arabic in it, and 
take a spoonful of it every half hour. 
For pain in the abdomen, use hot water 
applications only. The region of the 
stomach, in such cases, will almost 
always feel cold to the hand. Eat and 
drink nothing until a decided craving 
for a certain article manifests itself. 
If this craving is for acids, lemon-juice, " 
or strong sour lemonade, with gum- 
arabic (hot or cold, as indicated), is 
the proper thing; if for salt, Sar- 
atoga star spring, or any similar saline 
spring water, is the correct thing. 
Salt is one of the most necessary 
ingredients for the blood, especially 
in the hot season. Next comes veg- 
etable acids. All acid fruit is healthy, 
while sweetish and pulpy ones are more 
difficult of digestion, and sometimes 
somewhat risky, especially in combin- 
ation with other food or water. It is 
hardly necessary to remark that people 
should eat less heating A>od in summer 
than in winter. Children should live 
in summer principally on milk, good 
coarse bread, and fruit. To drink ex- 
cessive quantities of water, especially 
lake-water, with ice, is not only foolish, 
but dangerous. 

Small children should bo lightly 
dressed, and should wear a flannel 
bandage around the abdomen, instead 
of the chest. When a child shows the 
slightest symptoms of disorder, it should 
be brought to bed immediately. It 
should next be properly examined by a 



competent medical man. It requires 
Dothing but common sense to distin- 
guish between a physician and a quack. 
The first exammes like a surgeon, very 
carefully according to the anatomy of 
the body, and when he has finished, can 
always give an anatomical explanation 
of the matter f comprehensible, even, to a 
child. The quack is exceedingly accom- 
modating, knows all about it in a minute, 
bad had hundreds of cases, very difficult, 
but always successful, tells you the name 
of the disease at once, gives or pre- 
scribes medicines of which neither you 
nor he himself knows any more than 
that his great experience has made it 
imfailing, is always ready to call in a 
counsel of half a dozen more like him- 
self, that he may be able to shift the 
responsibility and blame in case of any 
trouble. So anxious is he on this last 
point, that when all other subterfuges 
fail, he will as a last resort shiil the re- 
sponsibility by talking about the infal- 
lible will of Grod, against which all 
human wisdom is as nothing. Believe 
nothing but what your common sense 
can comprehend, and you need have no 
fear of being fooled by any medical 
quack, whatever his standing in society. 
If an adult experiences difficulties in 
his abdomen, he should call in a phys- 
ician ; if momentarily prevented from 
doing so, and must keep on his feet, 
he should put a flannel bandage around 
the abdomen : 1st, to keep the intes- 
tines warm ; 2d, to prevent any unnec- 
essary motions of them brought about 
by exercise. If possible, take to your 
bed at once, and before it is too late ; 
and unless you have a knowledge of 
dietetics, stop eating and drinking, 
until you have informed yourself of 
what is best or most suitable under 
the circumstances. Simple water may 
be as dangerous in some particular 
cases as poison. Is there an inclination 
to vomit? Put your fingers in your 
mouth, and encourage it while lying on 
your stomach. Take no medicine 
whatever until you know what it is, 
and what it is for — because by so doing 
you may, through foolish confidence in 
medicine, neglect to do what should be 
done; and besides, if it is any very 
effective medicine, and one which is 

not indicated by the disorder, it will do 
very great injury. Any medicine that 
can be effcmve for good, is equally 
powerful for mischief if injudiciously 
used. In eating, consult your instinct- 
ive taste in preference to anything else. 
It should not, however, be forgotten 
that a correct knowledge of how to 
eat, to drink, and to use the bodily 
machine, with corresponding action, is 
an unfailing remedy against all sickness. 
As the machinist knows that his boiler 
cannot explode if properly managed, so 
the physician knows that your body 
cannot be sick without a just cause for 
it. There has been a great deal writ- 
ten on this subject ; and scientific men, 
the world over, are always willing to 
assist any effort on your part for in- 
formation, but it will not enter your 
head by chance ; neither will the 
cholera, typhus, or any other disor- 
der. It should be borne in mind, 
that the length of the natural life is at 
least 70 years ; and, therefore, that 
every death previous to that age is the 
result of ignorance, foolishness, or had 
practice. The moment we come fully to 
comprehend this truth, and also that 
all of us, without exception, have in 
some way our share of foolishness, 
in connection with a fixed purpose to 
be rid of it, that moment we may 
lay aside all fears in reference to 
summer complaint. This is no patent 
medicin^; but we guarantee its effec- 
tiveness when administered. 

In conclusion, we would again remind 
our readers, that a disease as such, has 
no existence whatever, in the air, water, 
clothing, or anywhere else, except in the 
imagination of those who are not prop- 
erly and thoroughly educated. Every 
phenomenon in nature has a certain 
cause for it. This cause may be known, 
or, if unknown, is not therefore super- 
natural or incomprehensible. If we 
should speak of a disease of the clouds, 
everybody would laugh at our igno- 
rance, but if we toll a patient that he 
has the cholera morbus, he will believe 
us in good earnest. Every ailment we 
have is simple, when once we under- 
stand its cause, but wonderful and in- 
comprehensible if we know nothing of 
cause and effect. 

Good : A Journal of Physical and Mental Culture.^ 



SINCE the days when Daedalus and 
Icarus made their fabled flight over 
the -ZEgean, on wings fastened to their 
shoulders with wax, down to the present 
time, the construction of a machine, as 
fitted for navigating the air as a ship is 
for sailing on the sea, has-been a task 
essayed by many men of scientific pur- 
suits and mechanical ingenuity, and 
their efforts, as everybody knows, have 
hitherto been anything but successful : 
indeed, the history of aeronautic science 
is a story of failures. 

Francis Lana, in 1670, so far as is 
known, gives the first idea of a real 
balloon, but the brothers Montgolfier 
were the first persons who constructed 
one, although scientific men were ac- 
quainted with the principles upon which 
such apparatus should be constructed 
for some years previous. 

Hydrogen gas was discovered by 
Cavendish in 1776, and as this gas was 
found to be the lightest substance known, 
(100 cubic inches weighing only a 
little more than two grains,) Cavallo, 
the eminent electrician, immediately 
after began to make experiments in 
aerial sailing. • 

The brothers Montgolfier constructed 
a vessel 110 feet in circumference and 
of 500 lbs. weight ; with this they in- 
tended to navigate the air, and they 
called their new vessel a " balloon." 

The first public experiment was 
made June 5th, 1783, at Annonay, near 
Lyons, in France. The balloon was 
merely a spherical bag made of pieces 
of coarse linen, loosely buttoned to- 
gether, and inflated with rarified air, 
produced by kindling a fire underneath 
It, The fire was constantly fed with 
small bundles of chopped straw, until 
the balloon was sufficiently distended, 
when it was loosed from its stays and 
rose to the height of about a mile, and 
then descended, haviug been suspended 
in the air for the space of ten min- 

In Paris, on the 27th of August of 
the same year (1788), a similar ascent 
was shown by M. M. Robert and 
Charles, who constructed their balloon 
of thin silk, and inflated it with hydro- 
gen gas. 

On the 19th of September, the 
brothers Montgolfier, having accepted 
an invitation from the Academy of 
Sciences to repeat their experiment of 
Annonay, on a larger scale, in Paris, 
sent up a balloon from the grounds of 
tiie palace at Versailles. On this occa- 
sion the passengers consisted of a sheep, 
a duck, and a cock, and were the first 
animals ever carried up into the air in 
this way. 

The first person who ascended was 
M. Pildtre de Rozier, on the 15th of 
October of the sanft year. When the 
Montgolfiers were sending up a ballooui 
he boldly leapt into the car or basket 
just as the machine was leaving the 
earth, and ascended to the heio^ht of 100 
feet, the balloon meanwhile being se- 
cured by ropes from below, and thus 
gained the fame of having been the 
first man who ventured on an aerial 
voyage. On the 21st of November 
following, de Rozier and the Marquis 
d'Arlandes first left the earth entirely, 
in an aerostatic balloon of M. de Mont- 
golfier, when the balloon rose at least 
3,000 feet in height. 

The first balloon seen in England was 
constructed by an ingenious Italian 
named Zanbeccari ; it consisted of oiled 
silk, and was about ten feet in diameter, 
and its exterior was entirely gilt. It 
made its first ascent on November 25th, 
1783, and appears to have attracted 
considerable attention. 

To remove the incredulity on this 
subject, which was very strong among 
the masses, the London Morning Chron" 
icle took the trouble to get reliable in- 
formation about the French balloons, 
and on the 11th of December, 1783, 
had an article headed, ^^Air Bal- 



loon/* from which we make a short 
extract: — 

^^ As many persons in this kingdom 
still discredit the relations conveyed 
in the French papers respecting the 
air balloons, we have the authority 
to use Dr. Lettsom's name for the 
following genuine communication from 
hi9* correspondent at Paris, dated the 
third of this month: — *0n Monday, 
an air balloon made of taffaty, covered 
with a solution of gum-elastic, was filled 
with inflammable air, under the direc- 
tion of Messrs. Charles and Robert, and 
was let off from the ThuiUeries. It had 
suspended to it a basket, covered with 
blue silk and paper finely giltf in the 
shape of a triumphal car or short 
gondola, in which Mr. Charles and 
one of the Roberts' embarked and 
mounted up into the air, from amongst 
many thousands of people of all ranks 
and conditions. Besides the Duke de 
Chartres and a great part of the French 
nobility, there were present the Duke 
and Duchess of Cumberland, the Duke 
and Duchess of Manchester, and many 
other foreign princes and nobili^. The 
triumphant cars of Venus, Medea, and 
various others, seemed to be realized ; 
with this difference, this was neither 
drawn by peacocks, doves, nor dragons ; 
neither was it mounted on a cloud ; it 
was, however, a most majestic spec- 
tacle.' " 

This authentic narration of a balloon 
ascent in France was calculated to allay 
suspicion, and prepare the public mind 
for a further draft upon their credulity, 
to which the Chronicle treated them, 
to the following effect : — 

^'It is well known that a pair of 
wings and a tail of the most curious 
workmanship are constructing for a 
person, who, in the spring, is to be sent 
off upon an air balloon. They are to 
extend twenty yards each way, and in 
form to be similar to those of a bat, 
having silk instead of feathers. With 
the help of the wings and tail, the man, 
when extended on die air balloon, will 
be able to guide himself to whatever 
part of the country he may wish to go. 
The wings above-mentioned are mak- 
ing at the instance of a person of very 
high rank in Paris, and who has bet- 

ted five thoi}sand guineas that the for- 
eigner who has undertaken this scheme 
makes a safe passage from Dover Cliff 
to Paris." 

What became of the poor foreigner 
who proposed to emulate the feat of 
Dsedalus and fiy across the sea, we do 
not know; but we think we may say 
with certainty that the person of very 
high rank lost his wager and his guin- 

Soon after this, balloon ascents be- 
came common enough in England. The 
first person who went up in a balloon 
on the Englbh side of the Channel was 
a countryman of Count Zembcccari's, 
named Lunardi, who made an ascent 
from London on the 21st of September 
in 1784. 

In 1784, Dr. John Jeffries, an Amer- 
ican physician, and the father and 
grandfather of the present Drs. Jeffries 
of Boston, Mass., in company with M. 
Blanchard, made an ascent on Nov. 
30th of the same year, in which they 
were suspended in the atmosphere for 
an hour and twenty minutes. On the 
7th of January, 1785, these gentlemen 
made a second ascent, from the cliffs of 
Dover, crossed the English Channel 
and landed in the forest of Guines in 
the Province of Artois, in France, ac- 
complishing this aerial voyage in two 
hours and forty-seven minutes. Tlie 
account which the Doctor gave of this 
voyage, very soon after it was accom- 
plished, is so interesting that we tran- 
scribe a portion of it for our readers. 

" The morning was remarkably fine, 
clear, and serene, but with intense frost. 
Exactly at one o'clock, we rose slowly 
and majestically from the cliff, which, 
being at the time of our ascent from it, 
almost covered with a beautiful assem- 
bly from the city, neighboring to\vn3 
and villages, with carriages, horses, 
etc., together with the extensive Beach 
of Dover, crowded with a great con- 
course of people, with numbers of boats, 
etc., assembled near the shore, under 
the cliffs, afforded us, at our first arising 
from them, a most beautiful and pic- 
turesque view indeed. • 

*' The weather continued delightful, 
and we began to have a most enchant- 
ing prospect of the distant country 



back of Dover, etc., enjoying in our 
view a great many towns ftnd villages ; 
among which I could distinguish the 
venerable city of Canterbury. 

" We passed over several vessels of 
different kinds, which saluted us with 
their colors as we passed them ; and 
we began to overlook and to have an 
extensive view of the coast of France ; 
which enchanting views of England 
and France being alternately presented 
to us, greatly increased the beauty and 
variety of our situation. 

" At half-past one o'clock the balloon 
seemed to be distended to its utmost 
extent, and thereby drew up the car 
close to it ; and as it was not possible 
to determine exactly how much gas 
might escape if we opened the valve, 
we only untwisted the two tubes at the 
bottom of the balloon^ by which it had 
been filled, and cast them over the sides 
of the car ; by which method no more 
gas escaped than was absolutely neces- 
sary to relieve the balloon, and to pre- 
vent it from bursting. 

" At ^fiy minutes after one, I found 
we were descending fast. We imme- 
diately took in the tubes within the car, 
and secured them, and cast out one 
sack of the ballast, and then half another 
sack, on which we began to rise. 

" At two o'clock, we found that we 
were descending again ; and were ob- 
liged to east out the remaining sack 
and a half of ballast, sacks and all ; 
and also a parcel of pamphlets, and in 
a minute or two found that we rose- 
again ; and now appeared to be about 
midway between the English and 
French coasts. 

"At about a quarter after two o'clock, 
I found that we were again descending ; 
this induced us to cast out, by small 
parcels, all the remaining pamphlets; 
notwithstanding which, I could barely 
discover that we rose a^rain. 

" We had not now anything left to 
cast away as ballast in future, except- 
ing the wings, apparatus, and ornaments 
of the car, with our clothes, and a few 
little articles ; but as a counterpart to 
such a situation, we here had a most 
enchanting and alluring view of the 
French coast. At about half-past two, I 
found we were again descending very 

rapidly, the lower pole of the balloon 
next us having collapsed very much, 80 
that the balloon did not appear to be 
three-fourths distended with gas. 

" We immediately threw out all the 
little things we had with us, such as 
biscuits, apples, etc., and after that odo 
of our oars or wings ; and then the 
other wing, and govcrnail ; and finally 
the moulinet, with all its apparatus; 
but the balloon not rising, we cut away 
all the lining and ornaments, both 
within and on the outside of the car, 
and threw away the only bottle we had 
taken with us, which, in its descent, ap- 
peared to force out a considerable 
8team,^like smoke, with a hissing or 
rushing noise ; and when it struck the 
water, we very sensibly felt the force 
of the shock on our car ; it appearing 
to have fallen directly perpendicular to 
us, although we had passed a consider- 
able way during its descent. As we 
did not yet ascend, we were obliged, 
though very unwillingly, to throw away 
our anchors and cords ; but still ap- 
proaching the sea, we began to strip 
ourselves .B.n(i cast away 6ur clothing, 
M. Blanchard first throwing away 
his extra coat^ with his surtout ; after 
which, I cast away my only coat ; and 
then M. Blanchard his other coat and 
trousers : we then put on and adjusted 
our cork jackets, and prepared for the 

*'We appeared at this time to be 
about three quarters of the distance 
towards the French shore, and so low 
as to be beneath the plane of the French 
cliffs; but on looking around I soon 
observed that we were rising, and that 
the pleasing view of France was en- 
larging and opening to us every mo- 
ment as we ascended, so as to overlook 
the high grounds. 

" We now ascended to a much greater 
height than at any former period of our 
voyage, and exactly at three o'clock we 
passed over the high grounds between 
Cape Blanez and Blackness, at which 
time nothing can exceed the beautiful 
appearance of the villages, fields, roads, 
villas, etc., under us, aft«r having been 
jufirt, two hours over the sea, 

"The weather still continued fine 
and very clear, the rays of the sun, 



thou^ almost horizontal, shining very 
bright ; but from the height which we 
were now at, and from the loss of our 
clothes, we were almost benumbed with 

" "We now found ourselves approach- 
ing towards a forest, which, appearing 
to be more extensive than it was prob- 
able we should be able to pass entirely 
over, we cast away one cork jacket, 
and soon after it the other, which 
almost immediately checked, and altered 
the augle of our descent. 

" We had now approached so near to 
the tops of the trees of the forest, as 
to discover that they were large and 
rough, and that we were descending 
with great velocity towards them ; from 
which circumstances, and from the di- 
rection of x)ur course at this time, fear- 
ing that the car might be forced into 
8ome of the trees so violently as to 
separate it from the cords that con- 
nected it ^vith the net which covered the 
balloon, I felt the necessity of casting 
away something; but happily, as we 
were approaching some trees of the 
forest higher than the rest, we passed 
along near them in such manner as 
enabled me to catch hold of the top- 
most branches of one of them, and 
thereby arrest the farther progress of 
the balloon, which, almost the instant 
the car touched the trees, so as to take 
off a part of its weight, was disposed 
to ascend again ; and in that position 
continued for a considerable time wav- 
ing over our heads, making a very 
pretty appearance above the woods, 
Qutil, having for some time held the 
valve open, a sufficiency of gas had 
escaped to dispose the car to settle on 
the brandies, when disengaging and 
pushing it from one to another, we found 
sufficient space between the trees to 
admit us to descend tranquilly to the 
surface of the ground, a little before four 
o'clock, it having been about half after 
three when I first stopped the progress 
of the balloon over the forest, which I 
have since been informed is called the 
Forest of GuineSj not far from Ardresj 
and near the spot celebrated for the 
famous interview betwecp Henry the 
Eighth, King of England, and Francis 
the First, King of France. 

^< My chief object in this last aerial 
voyage, was the novelty and enterprise 
of being one of the first who ptzssed 
across the sea from England into France 


Thus the feat of crossing the Eng- 
lish Channel in a balloon, was first suc- 
cessfully accomplished by an American, 
as above related. 

A monument was subsequently 
erected by the French Government 
to commemorate the event, and placed 
in the Forest of Guines, on the spot 
where Dr. Jefirie^ and M. Blanchard 
alighted after their aerial voyage from 
England into Fran*ce, the seventh of 
January, 1785. 

It may also be interesting to know 
that the car attached to the balloon, 
and used on the occasion, can be seen 
in a museum at Calais ; and that the 
barometer which was used during the 
voyage is now in possession of Dr. 
Jeffries, in Boston. 

At a somewhat later date (June) of 
the same year in which Dr. Jefiries 
made his successful aerial voyage, M. 
Rozier, who had been the first to as- 
cend in a balloon, in making the attempt 
to cross from France to England, lost 
his life, and was the first man killed by 

From th^ period of Dr. Jeffries' as- 
cent to the present, it does not appear 
that any very important improvements 
in constructing aerial machines have 
taken place ; the grand desideratum is 
to discover a means of steering them. 

Dr. Johnson's remarkable acumen 
displayed itself in the discussion of the 
practical value of the new machines 
as a means of locomotion. He writes 
to his friend and physician. Dr. Brock- 
lesby, September 29, 1784 : " On one 
day I had three letters about the air- 
balloon .... In amusement, mere 
amusement, I am afraid it must end, 
for I do not find its course can be 
directed, so as that it should serve any 
useful purpose." And again, in a letter 
addressed to the same gentleman, and 
dated October 6th, Dr. Johnson says : 
^^ The fate of the balloon I do not much 
lament; to make new balloons is to 
repeat Ihe jest again. We now know^ 
a method of mounting into the air, and 



I think are not likely to know more ; 
the vehicles can serve no nse till we 
can guide them." And in the art of 
goiding them, no real progress has been 
made during the eighty or ninety years 
that have elapsed since they were first 
•constructed. They are what they were, 
neither more nor less than ingenious 
toys ; and during that interval, the his- 
tory of balloons is but an account of 
ascents, either as a holiday attraction, 
for military reconnoitering purposes, or 
for the purpose of scientitic inquiry into 

the state of the atmosphere at different 
heights from the earth's surface. 

The longest aerial voyage ever made 
in Europe is that of Green, HollaDd 
and Mason, who travelled 500 miles in 
18 hours ; and the longest in America 
was from St. Louis, Mo., to Canada, a 
distance of nearly 1,000 miles. 

The greatest attitude ever reached 
by an aeronaut, was made by Glaishcr 
and Ooxwell, of England, in 1863, who 
ascended to the height of 31,680 feet, 
or 6 miles above the level of the sea. 


ONE of the most affecting anecdotes 
we ever read was published many 
y elajrs ago in * * Bural Sports." Shortly 
before Robespierre's sanguinary rule came 
to an end, a magistrate of unblemished 
character was seized by the revolutionary 
tribunal on a false accusation of conspiracy, 
and condemned to the guillotine. During 
the interval that elapsed between his com- 
mittal to prison and the execution of the 
sentence, his faithful dog, a spaniel, who 
was with him when arrested, and had, when 
prevented from sharing his master's ceil, 
taken refuge at a neighbor's house, pre- 
sented himself daily, at the same hour, at 
the prison gates. For some time the jailer, 
afraid of the consequences to himself, re- 
filsed the poor animal admittance. He 
nevertheless always remained a certain time 
before the gate, and at last the jailer, 
touched by his patient fidelity, allowed him 
to visit his master every morning. When 
fientenoe was pronounced the faithful atten- 
dant made his way into the court ; when the 
fatal knife fell he was also present,. and 
watched the headless corpse till it was bur- 
ied. From that time, for three months, the 
tnoumer only left the grave once a day to 
visit his new friend and receive food, imme- 
diately returning thither when the wants of 
nature were satisfied. After this period it 
appeared as if his patience were worn out ; 
he would no longer eat " With temporary 
strength, supplied by his long-tried and 
unexhausted afiection, iax twenty-four 
hours he was observed to employ his weak- 
ened limbs in digging up the earth that sep- 
arated him from the being he had served. 
His powers, however, here gave way; he 
slirieked in his struggles, and at length 
ceased to breathe, with his last look turned 
upon the grave." 

In Bochart's ** Hierozoicon,** a work on 
the animals mentioned in Scripture, pub- 
lished in 1663, he alludes to an instance, at 
tlie time well known in Paris, of a dog who . 
might be seen any dajr on the spot where 
his master had been interred three years 

previously. In a like case at Lisle, the 
sympathies of the inhabitants were enlisted 
for the faithful mourner, and a large kennel 
was erected over the grave, and food regu- 
larly conveyed to him. There he remained 
till his death, nine years afterwards. The 
more recent case of GreyfHars ** Bobby " at 
Edinbuiigh is well known. 

Then, again, have not animals their jeal- 
ousies? *^No one," says a recent writer, 
**who has had opportunities of seeing two 
dogs together, one a new and the other an 
old favorite, can doubt this." 

In the endeavor to support the opinion of 
Locke, that animals sometimes reason, we 
will now lay before the reader a few more 

A certain degree of heat is necessary for 
the hatching of the eggs and well-being of 
the young of ants, and they take no small 
amount of trouble in often removing their 
charge from one part of the nest to another, 
according to temperature. Reaumer men- 
tions that several colonies of ants, at diifer- 
ent times, took up their abode between his 
glass hive and its outer case, thus saving 
themselves an immense amount of labor and 
securing for their young a proper and equa- 
ble temperature. The same fact came under 
tlie notice of Bonnet. In the latter instance, 
the outer case of the hive wai lined with 
flannel, and, no doubt, the ants felicitatea 
themselves on getting into such snug quar- 
ters. The glass, as Kirby remarks, being 
a tolerably good conductor, would assist in 
keeping up a moderate degree of warmth. 
His comments here are so extremely perti- 
nent, that I cannot resist quoting the pas- 
sage entire. ** It is impossible," he says, 
*' consistently to refer tliese facts to instinct, 
or to account for them without supposing 
some stray ant, that had insinuated herself 
into this tropical crevice, first to have been 
struck with the thought of what a prodigi- 
ous saving of la^or and anxiety would occur 
to her compatriots, by establishing their so- 
ciety^ here ; — that she had communicated 
her ideas to them ; and that they had resol- 



▼ed upon dn^exBigratien to this new-discov- 
ered country — this Madeira of ants — 
vhose genial clime presented advantages 
which no other sitaation could offer. Nei- 
ther instinct, nor any conceivable modifica- 
tion of instinct, could have taught the ants 
to avail themselves of a good fortune which, 
but for the invention of glasj hives, would 
never have offered itself to a generation of 
these insects since the creation ; for there 
is nothing anal6gou8 in nature to the con- 
stant and equable warmth of such a situa- 
tion ; the heat of any accidental mass of 
fermenting materials soon ceasing, and no 
heat being given out from a society of bees 
when lodged in a hollow tree, their natural 
residence. The conclusion then seems ir- 
resistible, that reason must have been their 
guide, inducing a departure from their nat- 
ural instinct as extraordinary as would be 
that of a hen which should lay her eggs in 
a hot-bed, and cease to sit upon them." 

Dr. Darwin once noticed on the gravel 
walk of his garden, a large fly in the 
cintches of a wasp, which, after cutting off 
the head and lower part of the body, flew 
away with the remaining portion, to which 
the wings were still attached. A flight 
breeze, however, which was stirring, affect- 
ed the wings of the fly so as to cause its 
captor*s progress to be anything but plain 
saUing. Finding out what was the impedi- 
ment, the wasp took to earth again, severed 
both wings from the body, and, thus relieved 
from its difficulty, flew off. This was surely 
a process of reasoning equivalent to that 
w^ch leads a mariner to lower his sails in 
a head wind. 

M. Huber, to whose many and pains- 
taking investigations into the '* manners and 
customs'* of bees we have already had oc- 
casion to advert, records the following an- 
ecdote. He placed on a small table, under 
a bell-glass> a dozen humble-bees and a 
comb consisting of about as many cocoons, 
which, not being of uniform height, caused 
the mass to rock about when the bees 
mounted upon it, as their instinct prompted 
them tor do, to supply from their bodies 
the requisite warmth for their young. This 
unsteadiness evidently bothered them ; but 
how was it to be rectified? By a device 
which the reader might guess long enough 
without finding out. Several of the bees, 
planting themselves on the edge of the comb, 
head downwards, set their forefeet against 
the table, and, with their hinder claws 
attached to the comb, in this manner se- 
cured its stability. For nearly three days 
they continued to steady it by this means, 
relieving each other at intervals. By the 
end of that period they had a supply of wax 
ready, of which they constructed pillars to 
support the comb. These, somehow or 
other, giving way, the patient and intelli- 
gent little creatures at once reassumed 
their office of animated buttresses. At last 
the naturalist took compassion on them and 

cemented the comb to tiie table. '*How 
could the most profound architect have bet- 
ter adapted the means to the end — how 
more dexterously shored up a tottering edi- 
fice, until his beams and his props were in 
readiness ? ** 

We forget where we met with the next 
instance, but we know it was given on good 
authority. One of the large gray slugs 
which are such dire nuisances in green- 
houses, found its way into a hive, and being 
quickly discovered by the inmates, was at- 
tacked and stung to death. The question 
now was how to dispose of the corpse. To 
remove it from the hive was out of their 
power, and yet its decomposition indoors 
would be an offence to their olfactories. 
They hit upon the plan of covering it over 
entirely with wax and propolis (a glutinous 
' matter obtaned from the buds of various 
trees, as the birch, etc.), so as to exclude 
the action of the atmosphere — proceeding, 
in fact, on the same principle by which our 
merchants preserve meat and other provi- 
sions in canisters for long voyages. 

In a farmyard in Berkshire, where the 
piggeries were railed off on one side, the 
fowls were accustomed, when the feeding- 
troughs were replenished, to assemble in a 
body, and, fiying over the rails, help them- 
selves in no stinted measure to the good 
tilings provided for their swinish friends, 
A stop was put to these predatory incursions 
by the clipping of the fowls* wings ; but, 
some pigs chancing to be at large in the 
yard, a bright idea struck one of the hens, 
who, seizing her opportunity when a pig 
wandered close to the railing, fiew on to its 
back, and then found no difficulty in reach- 
ing the top, and thence descending, as fbr^ 
merly, to the interdicted diet. 

With regard to certain birds of passage, 
it has been often remarked that those which 
migrate from Scotland to Ireland cross 
over at the Straits of Portpatrick, that tliey 
wait for a side wind, and set out in the early 
morning — thus adopting precautions pre- 
cisely similar to those used in the early 
days of navigation by our ancestors, when 
they chose the narrowest parts of the chan- 
nel to cross by, and preferred to have the 
whole day before them. 

An amusing instance of a dog's euieness 
is related by a contributor to **Loudon*s 
Magazine.** While an omnibus was waiting 
at one of its regular stations for receiving 
passengers, a dog of the setter breed bound- 
ed in at the open door, and resisted every 
attempt on the part of the occupants and 
conductor to put him out. At none of the 
various stoppages on the way did he show 
the slightest inclination to move, till the 
omnibus arrived at the Eagle Tavern, in the 
City Road, when, the door being opened, 
he immediately jumped out, and walked off 
as if tftll acquainted with the locality. The 
contributor of this story was a passenger 
by the omnibus, and he appropriately eodti* 



tics his commanication, " A dog that reas- 
oned riding to be preferable to walking." 

Do animals gain knowledge by expe- 
rience ? The younger Huber it was, we be- 
lieve, who first called attention to the fact 
that large humble-bees, after in vain at- 
tempting to insert the head and thorax into 
the narrow- tubed flowers of the bean, so as 
to reach with their proboscis the nectary at 
the bottom of the tube, found out a way of 
obtaining their luscious diet by drilling a 
hole in the lower part of the tube, through 
which they insinuated their sucker. Vari- 
ous naturalists have since corroborated this 
testimony, and have also specified the com- 
mon columbine, marvel of Peru, and sev- 
eral kinds of monkshood, as having their 
blossoms perforated in the same way. 

That the lower animals are not altogether 
strangers to the connection between cause 
and effect, we may presume from the reports 
of various trustworthy observers. An in- 
stance is mentioned by Dr. Fleming. He 
speaks of having frequently, when in Zet- 
land, seen the hooded crow break the shells 
of those molluscs which were too hard to be 
put hon de combat with its bill alone, by 
beating them against stones. With some of 
the larger species, having harder and 
stronger shells, a different course of treat- 
ment is adopted. The crow, with the shell 
in its claws, rises in the air to what we may 
suppose it fancies the proper distance, and 
lets the captive mollusc fall among stones : 
never on the sand nor any soft place. Should 
the first attempt not be successful, a second 
is tried ; and if that fail, a third, and so on 
— tlie bird each time mounting higher, so as 
to increase the momentum of the fall — till 
the shell is shattered in pieces, and the 
tempting mouthful becomes attainable. 

Amongst the multitude of examples, with 
some of which almost every one must be 
acquainted, exemplifying the power (pos- 
sessed by the inferior animals of intercom- 
munication of ideas, it is somewhat difficult 
to select any having the charm of novelty. 
We may remark in passing, that, unen- 
dowed with the ability for mutual confer- 
ence, the proceedings of bees, in a hive, 
instead of being method itself, would often 
end in " confusion worse confounded." In 
more than one of the anecdotes quoted above 
from Huber, we have seen bees acting 
together in an evidently concerted manner. 
A French author of the last century gives 
an amusing account of the punishment in- 
flicted on feathered delinquents by those 
whom they have wronged. The house 
martins are, as their name implies, in the 
habit of building their nests under the caves 
of dwellings, and it is not at all an uncom- 
mon circumstance for a sparrow, with the 
impudence inseparable from its nature, to 
instai itself in one of these nests during 
the absence of the owners, and set at defi- 
ance every "notice to quit." The martins, 
finding it impossible to oust the intruder, 

,who, like many other bipeds, probably 
thinks '* possession nine points of the law," 
summon their friends to their assistance, 
and, while two or three of the party keep 
watch at the door of the nest to prevent 
escape, the others bring supplies of clay, 
and completely closing up the entrance, 
leave the unfortunate victim to die by suffo- 
cation. The " luxury of revenge," as it has 
been strangely termed, would appear by 
this account to be thoroughly appreciated 
by the martin tribe. Now in a case of this 
sort some conversation, or wliatever we 
choose to call it, must take place between 
the proprietors of the nest and their friends. 
We may suppose the application for assist- 
ance to run something in this form. '* Mar- 
tins and brethren, here*s an impertinent 
sparrow got into our house, and won't either 
leave it or let us in. Will you kindly come 
and help us to bury him alive? It's the 
only thing to be done with him." 

The following anecdote is very interesting : 
A young lamb had become entangled in a 
briar-hedge ; its own struggles, and the ef- 
forts of the mother, persevered in for a long 
time, were unavailing to set it at liberty. 
Finding at l«ngth that additional help must 
be obtained, the parent set off at a rapid 
pace across three large fields and through as 
many hedges, bleating in a most dolorous 
fashion. In the last field were a flock of 
sheep, to whom she no doubt told her story, 
for she shortly returned,* attended by a large 
ram, who used his immense horns to some 
purpose, speedily dragging away by them 
the encircling briars, and freeing the 

Life Iitsurakce. — What can Life Insur- 
ance effect for us ? It enables every man, 
no matter what his station in life may be, 
to provide for his family in the event of his 
premature death, by small periodical pay- 
ments, which could not, by any other means, 
"be productive of so much good ; or if ho 
has no family depending on him, he can 
secure an endowment, payable to himself in 
his old age, when the day for work* is past, 
and when the absence of those comforts 
which in earlier vears were the reward of 
labor, is felt with the acute sensibility of 
old age. 

It enables a wife to insure her husband's 
life for the benefit of herself and children, 
without the policy being subject to the claim 
of creditors, even should her husband have 
been, at the time of his death, a bankrupt. 

It enables parents to secure the education 
or establishment of their children in busi- 
ness, by means of endowments on their own 
lives, made payable at the time when these 
children would be prepared to enter on the 
active duties of life. It is useful in cases 
of loans where a policy given as collateral 
security facilitates the completion of the 
loan, and it enables executors or adminstra- 
tors to close up satisfactorily the trusts 




committed to their charge without the sac- 
rifice of any ii&portant interests. It is par- 
ticalarlj useful in cases where mortgages 
are held on farms or homesteads, and the 
death of the mortgager before the payment 
of the mortgage would expose the property 
to the danger of foreclosure. There is no 
station in life to which a policy of life in- 
surance will not bring its yalue. It is the 
*' begone, dull care ** of the age we live in, 
as it enables us to e^joy life without any 
harrowing cares as to our families' future. 
This is the plain and practical view to take 
of it Strip it of its benevolence, and its 
usefulness still remains. To the father of a 
family it is indispensable. So long as he 
keeps his premium paid, he can enjoy to 
the fhllest extent the happiness God has 
placed within his reach without any fear of 
poverty in the future for his wife and chil- 
dren. Poverty ! Have such of us as are 
in comfortable circumstances ever realized 
what it is, and what degree of it is hardest 
to bear? There are different degrees of 
pleasure and enjoyment suited to different 
tastes, and there are also different degn^-ees 
of poverty, which press with greater or less 
anguish, according to the former position in 
life of those on whom it had laid its blight- 
ing grasp. The ordinary poor, from long 
association with want, cease to feel its pres- 
sure, and their sensibilities become so 
blunted as to make them in a certain sense 
satisfied with their lot. But the poverty 
hardest to bear, and wnich brings with it 
the keenest suffering, is that which is best 
known as ** genteel poverty " ; that which is 
silently borne by families who are suddenly 
brought from a good position in life to a 
state of want and hardship by the untimely 
death of husband or father. Here is where 
the bitterest sting of poverty, is felt. In the 
sudden change from the eiy oyment of com- 
fort to the necessity of ekeing out a sub- 
sistence or dependence on the favors of 
friends, in most cases grudgingly bestowed. 
The whole system of Life Insurance is 
fraught widi untold blessings, if we would 
gather them. \\a cost is trifling compared 
with its advantages^ and in the interest of 
those committedf to our keeping by an 
All-wise Providence, the solemn obligation 
imposed on us should be discharged by 
effecting a life policy, if no better means 
presented itself. 

'* "Life's duties well performed. 
Will render sweet results.'' 


Geological Paintings. — One of the 
most renmrkable features of this century is 
the popularization of science by the greatest 
thinkers and scientific discoverers. What 
was formerly called science, was a myste- 
rious, illogical compilation of nonsense and 
notions, not fit for the open air, and less for 
criticism. Any scientific trutJi is simple, 

clear, and capable of being demonstrated 
even to a child. There is nothing in any 
branch of science which cannot be ex- 
plained, demonstrated, and clearly proved. 
Whatever may be represented as science, 
but is kept behind closed doors and myste- 
rious grimaces while it cannot endure open 
investigation — criticism and attack — is 
nothing but humbug and nonsense. It 
therefore becomes the duty of every well- 
meaning man, and also of a respectable 
press, to support, and to aid in popularizing 
every worthy effort which tends to exhibit, 
explain, and demonstrate scientific facts. 

Mr. Adolphe Rohde, from Berlin, has ex- 
hibited in New York and Boston, Geologi- 
cal Paintings, magnified in large diameter, 
which are accompanied with an explanatory 
lecture upon the development of the earth. 
This lecture, which has been emended and 
revised by the highest European authori- 
ties, is intensely interesting and instructive. 
We wish to draw the attention of all to 
this exhibition wherever offered to the pub- 
lic, and it is most desirable that the lecture 
be given in full, without mutilation, as has 
sometimes been the case, through unwar- 
rantable censure. And we would here ex- 
press the hope that especial occasion may 
be given to schools to attend this resume 
of Geology, as it gives more information in 
one hour than a pupil could acquire in 
many years from mere book study. The 
paintings are scientifically correct, and 
beautifully executed by eminent artists, 
and exceed anything of the kind which we 
have ever before seen in Europe. — Dr, 
Carl Both, 

Electkicitt. — The French correspon- 
dent of a British Jour., is responsible for 
the following story : — In the private apart* 
ments of the Emperor's palace, it is related 
that a lady in high position — in very high 
position, in fact — went near a mantlepiece, 
where she felt all of a sudden a slight com- 
motion ; she drew back naturally, and again 
approached — a new shock, and sharp prick. 
Illusion was impossible; however, she 
would try the experiment again. The 
commotion was increased in energy, and 
the prick became painful. Whatever was 
the matter?— ^ and, calling several persons 
of her suite, she said, " Try, then," to one 
of them to whom she related the strange 
adventure. This lady allowed a slight cry 
of astonishment to escape her ; for she, too, 
had felt the shock and the pricking. The 
grand lady then begged her husband to try. 
He, a little incredulous, but smiling, ven- 
tured to the magic mantlepiece. When he 
was within a few inches from the fireplace, 
a fine jet , of bluish fire was seen to pass 
from tlie marble to his clothes. What was 
the mystery ? They sent off to the Sor- 
bonne for one of the professors — not as in 
old times; they would have called in a 
magician. M. Jamin, one of the finest ex- 



perimenters ercr seen at a lecture-table, 
posted off to the bewitched palace. The 
mantlepiece received him with showers of 
characteristic crackling sparks. *' Ah ! that 
is electricity," said M. Jamin, and in a few 
seconds he found the key to the mysteiy. 
Before the mantlepiece was a magnificent 
bear's skis; every time when anv one 
walked upon it, the friction generated elec- 
tricity, which manifested itself in its usual 
forms of sparks and shocks. M. Jamin 
rubbed the bearskini and the sparks multi- 

Earth CLOf-'ETs, and Earth Sewage, 
— i^ a work by George E. Waring, jr., pub- 
lished by tiid Tribune Association, 154 
Nassau St., New York. 50cts. The au- 
thor, in hi» aiually clear and comprehen- 
sive style, \-} res a description, with illustra- 
tions, of the various applications of the 
earth clof et, and of the devices which have 
been contrived for rendering this invention 
useful u;ader different circumstances. 

The present system of earth closets is 
based vponthat of the Rev. Henry Moule, 
of England, who was the first to elaborate 
a plan for the systematic employment of 
earth for this purpose. This system has 
been most thoroughly tested in England, 
India, and more recently in this country, 
with the very best results. The attention 
of the public has been so extensively called 
to the merits of the earth closet, and the 
people so thoroughly aroused, that the 
time, we think, must soon come, when they 
will be completely satisfied of the superior 
advantages of this system over all otliers. 

The Massachusetts State Board of 
Health, in their Report, say of it: **This 
is one of the simplest and yet one of 
the most useful discoveries of modern 


mode of travel is on foot or on a saddle; the 
next best, is in an open carriage, or in an 
old-fashioned stage coach. A sea voyage, 
and almost any mode of travelling by water, 
is, in general, usefUl; but it would be a 
serious practical joke if any one were to 
advise an invalid to seek for health in 
a railroad car. 

A Life Iitsurancb Folict has often 
proved a better medicine than a physicians' 
prescription, or a voyage beyond the seas. 
By setting the mind at rest relative to a 
provision for the family, it secured that 
great boon, called, in the Bible, " a merry 
heart," which is said to do **good like a 

A Photographic IvciDEyT. — A fjurmer 
came into Paris one day last week, accom- 
panied by his two sons, to get their photo- 
graphs taken. To make the youngsters 
neat and trim for the pose, papa asked the 
artist to give them some water to wash off 

the dust of travellhig. The photographer^ 
being very busy, simply told them they 
would fiyd a lavatory in the adjoining rooov 
and the lads retired to polish up their faces. 
Scarcely, however, were the negatives 
taken, when the countenances of the Isda 
were observed to be gradually becoming of 
a dusky hue ; and, finally, to the horror of 
their father, they became as black as crows. 
The photographer then divined the truth. 
They had plunged their heated faces into 
one of the chemical baths used for photo- 
graphs. The wrath was great of their fond 
mamma when two niggers were brought 
back to her the same evening. 

The loss of relish for mirth is a symptom 
of disease either of body or of mind ; and 
where it is the result of the laUer, it will be 
found to be due, in most cases, rather to 
evils engendered witliin, tiian to troubles 
that have come from without. 


There now," said a little girl, who was 
rummaging in a drawer, *'gran'pa has gone 
to Heaven without his spectacles, an' you 
must take 'em with you, gran'ma, when yo« 


The Most Fatal Form of Coksumf- 
Tiov. — The consumption of strong drink. 

Medical Qdert. — When a person de- 
clares that ** his brain is on fire," is it eti- 
quette to blow it out? 

DisoRETioir in speech is more than elo- 

A FiKB coat may cover a fool, bat never 
conceals one. 

Car a curl over the forehead be called 
*' Locke on the Updentanding?" 

What Hope Did. — It stole on its pin- 
ions of snow to the bed of disease ; and the 
sufferer's frown became a smile — the em- 
blem of peace and endurance. It went to 
the house of mourning— and fh>m the Ups 
of sorrow there came sweet and cheerful 
songs. It laid its head on Uie arm of the 
poor, which was stretched forth at the com- 
mand of unholy impulses, and saved him 
from disgrace and rtiin. No hope, my good 
brother? Have it. Beckon it on your side. 
Wrestle with it, that it may not depart; it 
may repay your pains. Life is hard enough 
at best; but hope shall lead you over its 
mountiuns, and sustain thee amid its billows. 
Part with all beside, but keep thy hope. 

Hating had business transactions with 
the Union Mutual Life Ins. Co. for several 
years, during which we have always found 
them uniformly courteous, and honorable 
and upright in their dealings, we take 
pleasure in calling attention to their adver- 
tisement on last page of cover. — Ed. 

Good Health. 


On the Laws of Correct Living. 


THE great object of all physicians 
up to the end of the last centary, 
and all the efforts of medical science, 
were devoted to one aim, — the dis- 
coTery of a means of curing disease ; 
to find a something, which, when em- 
ployed by one ill of a fever, or an 
inflammation, should stop that fever or 
inflammation in its full career, and 
rapidly restore the patient to his usual 
health and strength. They sometimes 
imagined that they had discovered the 
qwofic, whether in blood-letting, or 
some other mode of treatment; but 
they were always compelled, in the epd, 
to acknowledge, ailer long trial, that 
their specific had fa^d to cure ; they 
were as unsuccessful, and as likely to 
be unsuccessful, as was the alchemist 
in his attempt to transmute the metals, 
or to discover the elixir of life. But a 
great change has now passed over the 
aim and object of the medical art; 
the cure of disease, once set above all 
others in importance, has sunk to a 
8oeondary place, and the first aim of 
medicine is nowadays to ^prevent disease. 
This great revolution was as important 
to medical science as the observations 
of Priestley were to chemistry, or 
Bacon's philosophical reform to the 
laws of thought. It was this that 
turned the whole stream of medical 
energy into the diannel in which it now 
runs ; till then, men had been content 
to accept disease as an inevitable affile* 
tion; they now began to understand 
tiiat it was possible to prevent it, and 
from that time the energies of all the 
busy workers in every university and 
Bdiool of medicine in Europe, have 
been devoted to one aim — the extinc- 
tioQof disease. 
Let it, thetk, be reiterated that the 

first aim of medicine is to prevent dis- 
ease. The public have not yet learnt 
this, they stiU imagine that the only 
business of the doctor is to cure them 
when they are ill. In newspapers, the 
writers often blame the doctors for not 
having found out a cure for such and 
such a complaint, just then prevalent ; 
they demand to be told, for example, 
the use of an art which cannot cure 
either the cattle-plague or the cholera. 
The answer to this is, that no one 
nowadays expects to find out a cure for 
these diseases ; from what we know of 
their natural history, it seems probable 
that there never will be found out ^ 
cure. Further, much more could be 
done by what we even now know of 
the methods by which they can be sup 
pressed, than if we could find out a 
method for curing one-half of the 
cases attacked. The popular ignorance 
on this subject was never brought out 
so completely as in the year of the 
cattle-plague in England, when the 
public for several months refused to 
listen to the only scientific and rational 
plan for its suppression, ofiered by Mr. 
Gamgee, but adopted instead the wild- 
est and most absurd methods for its 
cure, suggested by persons who had 
not the slightest pretensions to knowl- 
edge on the subject. Had Mr. Gam- 
gee's advice been acted upon in the 
early stage of the plague, England 
could be now many millions richer than 
it is. It is to be hoped that our readers 
wiU do their best to dispel the unscien- 
tific notions, prevalent amongst even 
well-educated people, as to the aim of 
medicine, for it is only by a wide diffu- 
sion of knowledge on this subject, that 
any attempt to check the progress of the 
immense amount of disease entirely pre- 

Batered according to Act of Congrets, in the year 1870^ by Alexander MoorX| in the Office of the 
Vol. IL^Pi. 4. librarian of Congress, at Washingtpn. 



ventable, whether by state interference 
or individual action, can be successful. 

On referring to the English Registrar- 
GeneraFs reports for the last ten years,, 
we find that in England and Wales 
about five hundred thousand people die 
•every year; of which five hundred 
thousand, one Jiondred thousand die of 
zymotic diseases ; that is, twenty out of 
every hundred people who die, die, 
usually at an early age, of disease 
which can, and ought to be prevented. 

No approach to any means of cur- 
ing these so-called zymotic diseases 
has been discovered; but of all the 
complaints known, they are the most 
easily preventable ; in no other group 
of diseases is there a something which 
can almost be handled^ which is the 
source of the complaint, and without 
which the complaint would not exist. 
It is to the entire removal of this cause 
that our efforts in the suppression of 
these diseases are directed. A knowl- 
edge of their natural history is neces- 
sary to a comprehension of the means 
to be employed in preventing their oc- 

The diseases called zymotic — a 
name which is bad, because based upon 
a false theory, but which has become 
sanctioned from long use — are, in 
systematic medicine, known as the 
acute specific diseases ; acute, because 
always of short duration, tending spon- 
taneously to cease at a fixed date from 
the attack, and never extending over 
months and years, like chronic diseases ; 
specific, because they are accompanied 
by a process peculiar to each one of the 
group, a process quite of its own kind, 
and unknown in the course of other 
acute complaints. Amongst them stand 
measlea, scarlet fever, whooping-cough, 
diphtheria, mumps, t3rphoid fever, 
typhus fever, and small-pox. Measles 
may be regarded as a type of this class 
of complaints. It has a greater ten- 
dency to spare the life of the individual 
rthan most of the others ; it is very 
widely distributed, and few people reach 
adult age without having suffered from 
an attack. Th'e history of the com- 
plaint, and of those associated to it, is, 
therefore, personally interesting to 
almost every one. 

Each disease, a3 a general rule, and 
only as a general rule, occurs but once 
during life. It not unfrequently hap- 
pens, however, that a second attack of 
measles or small-pox occurs. Many 
years ago, a theojry was propounded, 
referring the whole of the phenomena 
of these complaints to a species of fer* 
mentation. When the germs of the 
yeast-plant are introduced into a sola- 
tion of sugar in water kept at a suitable 
temperature, the yeast-plant converts 
the sugar into two new compounds 
quite different from the original sugar, 
alchohol and carbonic acid« Nearly 
the same changes were believed to oc- 
cur in the human body. Every child 
was supposed to be bom with a varied 
of fermentable substances in hia blood, 
in number equal, and corresponding, to 
every one of die zymotic diseases. 
These fermentable substances meeting 
with the germs of disease, were acted 
on by them exactly as the sugar is acted 
on by the yeast-plant ; such a process 
going on in the body would naturally 
enough cause a feeling of iUness ; ths 
fermentation was, supposed to account 
for the fever, while the eruption on the 
skin was the means by which the pro- 
ducts of the fermentatibn were thrown 
off. If the fermentation were com- 
pleted, and the whole of the ferment- 
able substance changed into new com- 
pounds, that accounted for the subse- 
quent immunity of the patient, for, the 
whole of the fermentable substance, 
which was the food and sustenance of 
the disease, having been destroyed, no 
further attack could possibly occur. 
But if the fermentation had been 
incomplete, and the whole of the fer- 
mentable substance not destroyed, then 
the patient was stiU liable to a second 
attack, for he retained in his blood 
what might at any time be set off into 
new activity, if again encountered by 
the germs of the disease, and thus a 
second attack might occur. The theory 
explains a good many of the facts, bist 
it demands too great a concession at tbo 
outset. Few will be disposed to admit 
the presence in the blood of nearij 
twenty distinct and separate substances, 
which exist only to serve as a nidua 
for the specific ferment, and to be a 



8(mrce of injurjr to the individual. 
The name zymotic (leaven) atiU oon- 
tinoes to be applied to this gronp of 

Another striking feature in the 
natoral history of these disorders is, 
that they are not known to arise spon- 
taneously; their origin being always 
' due to certain local causes. There is 
no properly authenticated case on record 
of a person having suffered from an 
acute specific disease, without personal 
contact with their sources, or with 
another person suffering from the same 
complaint. Recent discoveries seem 
to suggest that this contagious matter 
is a vegetable growth — a fungus. 
Some observers, especially in Germany, 
aver that they have been enabled to 
detect under the microscope the little 
plant which is the cause of cholera; 
others assert, that certain fungi found 
in mouldy straw will produce measles 
in less than forty-eight hours after 
inoculation. Sir Henry Holland has 
thrown oat the idea that these diseases 
are produced by clouds of animalcules 
passing over a country ; and he con- 
siders that' the way in which an epi- 
demic f^ver advances, supports this 
view. The zymotic theory has just 
been stated (fermentation). These 
opinions are introduced only to show 
how little is really known about the 
nature or composition of what is be- 
lieved to be the contagious material ; — 
of its form, whether animal or veget^ 
able, whether a ferment, or simply 
some organic chemical combination, 
nothing is known. With regard to the 
mode in which this so-called contagious 
material is conveyed to individuals : it 
is a common idea that it is carried 
through the air, or even that it is pro- 
duced anew where there are bad smells, 
defective drainage, and in low, damp 
situations. The notion that the air 
carries the contagions matter is sin- 
gularly devoid of any support from the 
manner in which these complaints 
usually spread. When, for example, 
disease passes from one place to 
another, it moves along the line of 
traffic, not in the direction of the wind, 
bnialong the course taken by travellers ; 
when a disease- leaves a continent for 

an island, it makes its first appearance 
in a sea-port. In fact, the so-called 
contagious material seems capable of 
being carried but a very short distance, 
by the movement of the air ; one of 
the best means of disinfection is to 
send a free current of air through the 
room or space, fresh air seeming to 
have the power of destroying or weaken- 
ing, perhaps by dilution, the contagious 
material. There is no doubt that 
defective drainage, and crowding of 
people together, predispose to the recep- 
tion of these specific complaints, and 
are themselves the direct causes of 
many and serious illnesses, but bad 
sanitary arrangements in a house or 
town do not usually generate these 
epidemic disorders, they being generally 
introduced from without^ and then^ 
under these bad sanitary conditions, 
ftey spread with frightful rapidity, and 
cause immense mortality. An instance 
in proof of this may be found in the 
hygienic condition of England beforv 
the time when the cholera first visited 
that country. Then the sanitary con- 
dition was probably as bad as could be, 
yet the cholera did not exist until it 
was carried over from the continent of 
Burope, when it spread rapidly and 
decimated the country. 

What, then, is the way in which the 
contagious matter is conveyed ? Chiefly 
by individual and personal contact, and 
by emanations from the sick man. . . . 

In small-pox and measles, the spe- 
cific process is the rash on the skin ; in 
scarlatina, the rash on the skin, and the 
sore throat conjoined; while in diph- 
theria it is the sore throat alone, which 
is the specific process. The specific 
process itself is stricty local, never 
affecting all the tissues of the body 
generally, but limiting itself to one set 
of tissues, or to those analogous to it. 
Thus in small-pox, the local specific 
process is limited to the skin alone, 
except when it attacks, in grave cases, 
the mucous membrane, similar in struc- 
ture to the skin, of the windpipe and 
air-tubes of the lungs. In diphtheria, 
the mucous membranes alone are in« 
volved, while in typhoid fever it is the 
adenoid tissue, which the spleen and 
some other organs largely contain, that 



is affected. Fever is a constant ac- 
companiment of the local specific pro- 
cess; and by fever we simply mean 
that the temperature of the body, as 
measured by the thermometer, is greater 
than in health. The natural temper- 
ature of the body is 98^ Fah., but in 
fever it rises above this. The temper- 
ature of the body in health is main- 
tained by a constant oxidation or burn- 
ing of the tissues by the oxygen of the 
air, brought by the blood from the 
lungs. In fever, this process of com- 
bustion goes on more rapidly, and the 
tissues are burnt away at a higher rate, 
and thus an elevation of temperature is 
produced. A great increase in the 
products of combustion, which are 
eliminated from the system, takes place 
during the fever, or at its termination. 
This process of increased combustion 
readily explains the rapid emaciatiott 
which occurs in fevers. The gteat 
debility of the patient depends upon 
the exhaustion produced by the high 
temperature. According to Joule's 
law, every degree of increased temper- 
ature represents a certain amount of 
mechanical exertion. The Rev. Pro- 
fessor Haughton says : " The work due 
to animal heat would lifl the body 
through a vertical height of eight miles 
per day; and it thus appears that an 
additional amount of work, equivalent 
to the body lifted through one mile per 
day, is spent in maintaining its temper- 
ature at fever heat. If you could place 
your fever patient at the bottom of a 
mine, twice the depth of the deepest 
mine in the duchy of Cornwall, and 
compel the wretched sufferer to climb 
its ladders into the open air, you would 
subject him to less torture from mus- 
cular exertion, than that which he 
undergoes at the hand of nature, as he 
lies before you, helpless, tossing, and 
delirious on his fever cpuch." 

Both the local specific process, and 
the fever, have a tendency to terminate 
in the restoration of the sufferer to 
health, without any intervention of the 
medical art. But at the termination 
of these conditions a state of health, 
often wretchedly below par, is left be- 
hind. Scarlet fever frequently destroys 
the drum of the ear, by extension of 

the sore throat backwards into the Eas- 
tachian tube, and there sets up an ul* 
ceration by which the patient's life is 
in constant jeopardy ; at any time, too, 
from the fading of the rash until a 
month afterward, that fatal form of 
dropsy, called scarlatinal dropsy, may 
supervene on the slightest exposure 
to cold. Measles, chicken-pox, and 
whooping cough, very slight in them- 
selves, leave behind a predisposition to 
a most fatal complaint, the deposit of 
tubercles in every part of the body. la 
grown-up people, the brunt of the dis- 
ease usually falls upon the lungs, and 
it is then called consumption ; bat in 
children the disease is spread more 
generally throughout the system, the 
brain and other organs suffering quite 
as much as the lungs. This disposition 
to tubercle arises after these three dis- 
eases, without any previous hereditaiy 
taint or inclination whatever. The zy- 
motic diseases, then, are not the harm- 
less ailments which the public think to 
be, but even the mildest may lea^e be- 
hind the seeds of a malady which, 
sooner or later, will destroy life. 

The circumstances under which zy- 
motic diseases are enabled to spread 
are the following. First of aU, the zy- 
motic principle itself (whatever th€U is), 
must be present ; next, a condition of the 
atmosphere or of the surroundings, fa- 
vorable to the spread of disease. 
Thirdly, personal contact, inoculation 
with, or inhalation of the emanations 
from the sick man. Lastly, an indi- 
vidual in a state of predisposed suscep- 
tivity, through previous modes of life 
or constitutional tendency. 

Knowing that these four conditions 
are necessary for the spread of these 
diseases, the means at our disposal for 
their prevention will be shortly alluded 
to. With regard to the zymotic 
substance, the agent which most effect- 
ively destroys it, is heat. In Egypt, 
the spread of the plague is always ar- 
rested after St. John's day, from the 
intense heat which then arises. A 
temperature oT 120** Fah. will prove a 
most perfect disenfectant in all cases. 
Several chemical agents are also said 
to be excellent disenfectants. Amongst 
these are especially to be mentioned 



carbolic acid, chlorine, and nitrous 
acid« The gtate of the surroundings is 
very important, but unfortunately little 
is known of the meteorological changes 
which accompany an epidemic. A 
temperature of 82^ Fah. seems to check 
the spread of some diseases, but the 
whole of our information on this point 
is most meagre. One of the surround- 
ing conditions is known to be extremely 
important — fresh air — this is, without 
doubt, the most important agent that 
we possess in checking the progress of 
disease. Free, efficient ventilation of 
a house wiU oflen protect its inmates 
from infection from without. The me- 
dia for the conveyance of disease have 
been spoken of previously. A predis- 
position on the part bf the individual 
who is exposed, for not every one ex- 
posed is infected. Some persons seem 
quite incapable of receiving the zymo- 
tic diseases during the whole of their 
lite ; while, on the other hand, certain 
conditions of the system predispose to 
tbem*; mental anxiety, worry,- and 
trouble of any kind render a person 
peculiarly liable. So do fear of taking 
the complaint, a poor state of health at 
the time, great bodily fatigue and ex- 
hausting labor ; above all, the fasting 
state. A person who has not eaten for 
hours will be far more likely, other 
conditions being equal, to be infected 
on exposure than one who has just ta- 
ken a meal. We cannot always con- 
trol our emotions or secure a tranquil 
and happy frame of mind ; but at the 
worst, most of us can afford a dinner. 

Amongst the poor, the want of good 
food and clothing, the indifferent light 
which . does not allow them to see the 
dirt about them, and which they there- 
fore do not remove, the overcrowding 
and bad ventilation, all render them 
exceedingly predisposed to the acute 
specific diseases. Accordingly we find 
that an outbreak of zymotic disease 
always makes head among the poor 
first; amongst them it gathers its 
strength and multiplies. 

After a consideration of the prece^ 
ding remarks, the question, ^^ Hoi^ may 
epidemic diseases be prevented?" may 
be more easily answered. Individual 
action can do little { it is to the State 

that we must look for efficient interfer- 
ence for the suppression of these com- 
plaints. Laws compelling the drainage 
and water supply to be at least effective, 
and forbidding the frightful overcrowd- 
ing of dwellings which now prevails in 
every large town, ought to be made ; 
every case of epidemic disease ought to 
be watched by officers of health, since 
that one case may become the centre 
of extension to the whole town. 

Individuals may, however, do some- 
thing in preventing these complaints, 
especially in their own households, but 
their exertions can scarcely reach be- 
yond this. In the first place, let the 
water that is used for drinking be most 
carefully seen to at aU times. No one 
should use water, the purity of whose 
source of supply is at all questioned, 
for water that loo^s, smells, and tastes 
perfectly good may convey the deadly 
poison of cholera or typhoid fever. 

One of the most important means of 
prevention is also within the reach of 
individuals ; it is quite simple, needing 
no apparatus or chemicals, and is the 
free and complete ventilation of all 
rooms and passages by means of win- 
dows opening on the external air, 
assisted, where there are opportunities, 
by fires in open grates. This method 
yields to none in efficiency ; it is of far 
more use than any chemical means of 
disinfection, useful* though these may 
be ; the only effectual plan is complete 
and thorough ventilation. 

The lives of cattle must be protected 
because they are valuable property; 
the lives of men are apparently of little 
or no account. So long as the poor re- 
main in their present wretched and 
unhealthy condition — a very poor pop- 
ulation may yet be healthy — and so 
long as the death rate exhibits little or 
no decline in each succeeding year, so 
long are we on the moral level of bar- 
barians in disregard for human life. 
This deep stain on moral civilization, 
the entire neglect of the sanitary con- 
dition of the poor, can only be wiped 
away by a great effort on the part of 
society in general, by the framing of 
laws which shall effectually and at 
once remove this evil from amongst 





AMONGST the many qsefitioos 
that are being agitated concenung 
the proper forms of education for 
women, we must not lose sight of the 
great importance of instruction in the 
housekeeping, food, and cookery depart- 
ments. There are many wonien who, 
while repudiating or ridiculing the 
necessity for a higher education in other 
matters, are no less scornfully ignorant 
of what ought to be a very important 
part of every woman's knowledge. 
There are other women again, who, in 
grasping earnestly the higher, lose sight 
of the lower, but not the less appro- 
priate part of their education. Wlien 
we consider this subject carefully, ip 
relation to every woman's life, we find 
that in no instance can the knowledge 
of housekeeping and cookery be dis- 
pensed with. The only women— -few 
and far between, in comparison with 
the number of other women — who* 
might be able to dispense with this, are 
those who are so wealthy that they can 
afford the luxury of a housekeeper ; 
but even these may be plunged into 
poverty some day, and then the requisite 
knowledge of practical things will not 
come badly to them. Besides, as no 
woman can be certain that she will be 
thrown into that particular sphere, it is 
well in early youth to accustom every 
woman to look upon life as a practical 
reality, — not to be dreamt away in 
idleness, and contempt of the lesser 
daily duties. This knowledge can be 
inculcated before the higher branches 
of ec^cation are reached, and it ought 
to form part of the programme of every 
girl's school, as well as of instruction 
at home. There would be ample time 
for it, for there are accomplishments 
which are insbted upon for girls, 
whether they, have a talent for them or 
not; and they would be much better 
employed in acquiring more practical 
forms of education. It does not neces- 
sarily follow that, because a woman has 
a fair amount of practical knowledge, 
she must lose all feminine sweetness, 
and become a mere household drudge. 
On the contrary, the so-called house- 

hold drudge seldom knows anything of 
the science of cookery and food. And 
this knowledge, far from interfering 
with higher education, in any form or 
phase, is a real necessity of that very 
movement for opening fresh employ- 
ments, and for the more technical 
education of women. 

First, we will suppose that a woman 
has been well educated, and that her 
lot in life is to be married, and that she 
is not one of the exceptionally wealthr 
ones. WiU she not be the better wife 
for a knowledge of the physiological 
properties of food, and of the best 
mode of cooking the same? If she 
does not know what is the friult of the 
ill-cooked viand that her cook sends up 
to table, how is she to direct her to 
rectify it for the next time? And fre- 
quent repetitions of bad cookery are 
sure to put her husband in a bad temper, 
and perhaps drive him to his club, so 
that he mav get a good dinner 1 He 
will most likely blame his wife for not 
being able to direct the cookery departp 
ment more wisely. As a rule men care 
more than women do for good cookery ; 
and, assuredly, it should not be con- 
sidered beneath a wife to see that her 
husband's home is made happy, and 
that her household is weU ordered in 
all things. 

So then with a view to matrimony 
alone, every woman should be tanght 
domestic management, and in her turn 
she ought to instil that knowledge into 
the minds of her daughters. 

We will suppose, however, that a 
woman — and her name is Legion ! — 
has no husband to please, or household 
to order, but that she is going to enter 
upon the medical profession, or to be 
hospital nurse, matron or superinten- 
dent of any public institution, a house- 
keeper, or a sister of mercy, or that 
she is going to emigrate to the West. 
Will she not require culinary knowledge 
for every one of these things? 

First, as a physician, she must know 
what is good or not good for her 
patients ; for, if she be anything of a 
successful practitioner, she wiU find 




that diet is everTthing in many diseases. 
As a matron, sa'perintendent or house* 
keeper, she must know how to direct 
the serraiits under her; and both in 
hospitals and schools the quality and 
mode of cookery of food is very im- 
portant, and in many cases not suffi- 
ctently attended to. As a hospital 
oorse, she will not be the worse for 
practical knowledge of what she is 
administering to the patients ; and, as 
a sister of mercy, it is eqnaUy im- 
portant that ^e be qualified to instruct 
the poor whom she visits, for they 
might often be better and more whole- 
somely fed by the mere knowledge of 
how to utiliEo the small means they 
possess. And if a woman means u> 
enugrate, it needs no argument to prove 
how idiotic she will be to undertake the 
life of a new settler, without that most 
necessary practical knowledge of do- 
mestic economy. 

We see then that, in every station in 
life, the knowledge of the quality of 
food, and how to cook it, is very 
essential to womankind, — to enable 
them to make others happy and com- 
fortable ; by qualifying them to detect 
adulterations or bad qualities of food ; 
and to prescribe the best food for sick 
people under their care. 

It is a great cry of the age that 
benrants are not up to their work, and 
it is mainly because so little trouble is 
taken to instruct them early in youth 
in the forms of service. It would 
indeed be a very good thing if our idle 
women would but undertake to instruct 
the poor in the practical duties of 
domestic life. Much illness and misery 
might be saved, and better servants 
secured to the community; and no 
woman should think it beneath her — 
te she as learned as any man living — 
to acquire a knowledge of the laws of 
health, and how that health is affected 
by good or bad food and cookery. 

— Emilt Fatthful. 

Technical Education. — It b on 
his mother's knee that the child, '^ eyes 
raised to heaven, and small hands folded 
fab," is taught to raise his voice to 
who aU things sees"; whilst 

walking at her side. that he learns to 
turn his foot aside lest he should injure 
the worm, so marvellously made, and 
to watch the opening of the budding 
leaf; of her he asks, ''What is the 
sun?^ and to her he says, ''Mother, 
what is there beyond the skies ? " And 
she reads to him out of this fair book 
of Nature, and the instruction she gives 
him is wrapped in veneration for that 
Great Power whose law, by which all 
around is governed, is science ; and the 
boy starts as a student, with the best 
of all incentives to the acquirement of 
knowledge — the love of inquiry. 

Anxiett and liABOB. — ^You cannot 
escape from anxiety and labor ; it is 
the destiny of humanity. You may 
avoid indeed, to a great extent (some 
at least may), taking part in the 8trug« 
gle of life, in the sharp and eager com* 
petition of an open profession, or tbs 
not less intense pursuit of some worthy 
object of study. But, by what seems 
to me a just and wholesome retribution, 
those who shirk from facing trouble 
find that trouble comes to them. The 
indolent may contrive that he shall hav<d 
less than his share of the world's work 
to do; but Nature, proportioning the 
instinct to the work, contrives that that 
little shall only the more weary him. 


Seweb-watbr. — Dr. Frankland, 
in the Brit, Med. Jour.y denies the cur- 
rent notion that sewer-water, mixed 
with the stream of a river, is purified 
by the combustive action of the oxygen 
dissolved in the water. He maintains 
that there is no liver in England long 
enough to effect this combustion com- 
pletely and satisfactorily. It is true 
that, afler a short distance, the river- 
watbr becomes limpid, and less loaded 
with organic matter; but that is be^ 
cause the greater part of the organic 
matter in suspension has fallen to the 
bottom, and is deposited with the mud. 
To purify sewer-water, he sees no 
other practicable means than filtration 
through the earth, which it serves to 
manure and enrich. This filtration, 
completely purifies it. 




ON this all-important subject many 
theories have been propotmded, 
whole volumes written ; and yet as often 
has the very point been missed which 
ought never to have been forgotten,' 
viz., that we must listen to the voice 
of nature. In our present enlightened 
age of science, and spelling made easy, 
most of us know that one of the first 
receiving houses for food is a double- 
mouthed bag, lightly slung in the space 
below the end of the breast-bone, and 
called a stomach ; that this bag is rather 
a complex structure, furnished with 
blood-vessels and glands, which keep 
it in working order, and with a set of 
nerves, which telegraph to the brain 
when the working is out of order. The 
middle and outer coats of -this bag have 
some muscles handily interwoven, and 
these are more plentiful and stronger at 
the lower mouth of the bag, and act 
the part of doorkeeper, to prevent re- 
fractory morsels of food from bolting 
through the opening, as raw recruits 
for the bowels. Then, for the blood- 
vessels, — the very term implies the 
function ; — and the glands, what are 
they for? To secrete juices which shall 
help to digest the food ; while the nerves 
are the telegraphic system which per- 
meates the whole structure, and signals 
very distinctly to the brain when blood- 
vessel, gland, or muscle, is failing to 
do its respective duty, or doing this 
duty inefficiently. If, then, we can 
bear in mind two great facts connected 
with the stomach, namely, — that it 
has, first, a set of blood-vessels, and 
therefore can be inflamed ; and, sec- 
ondly, that it has nerves, and therefore 
can be pained, — we may perhaps feel 
more disposed to be cautions in our 
treatment of the same. Luckily for us, 
it is a good stout bag, and will stand 
plenty of wear and tear ; but the pro- 
verbial camel has its back broken by 
the last load, and the stoutest leather 
will occasionally give way, instead of 
stretching to circumstances ; so, is it to 
be wondered at that the stomach some- 
times strikes work? 
My reader may ask, '^ How am I to 

teU whether this or that food agrees or 
disagrees with me ? " I answer, " Br 
your sensations." The nerves will tel- 
egraph the state of affairs. At first 
uneasiness, and then pain, will tell yoa 
whether the food you have taken has 
agreed, or the reverse. And, indeed, 
it 18 a question of agreement ; you must 
come to terms with your stomach ; for 
if you do not, it will eject the unwel- 
come lodger, or pinch and gripe yoa 
into submission. So that by listening 
in time to the warning given by pain 
and uneasiness, you may avoid the life^ 
long trouble of indigestion. 

I have spoken of the stomach indi- 
vidually as a separate organ, because 
it is perhaps more generally understood, 
if not more generally talked of ; but we 
must not ^rget the part played by the 
bowels in the great drama of digestion. 
"Your stomach is out of order" is 
about the first sentence uttered by the 
medical man to his patient who shows 
him a furred tongue. Sir James Eyre 
has discoursed pleasantly and well on 
"The Stomach and its difficulties." 
" I have a weak stomach " is the com* 
plaint of the dyspeptic. It is, as I said 
before, a good, stout organ, and will 
bear much rough work ; and it is well 
for us that Nature has so constructed 
it, for when so many bolt tlieir food 
with little or no mastication, how nec- 
essary is it to have another set of teeth 
lower down, to reduce the precipitate 
morsels to that more harmless com- 
pound known as chjrme. This is what 
the stomach does for us, ~- it remastir 
cates our food, — only the teeth are 
replaced by certain juices, the constit- 
uents of which are a Babylonian mys^ 
tery to physiologists. The stomach 
thus does the first hard work that has 
been shirked or slurre^ over by the 
teeth ; and, though supplied so richly 
with blood-vessels, is rarely attacked 
by infiammation ; showing that, after 
all, we must look to the poor neglected 
bowels for most of our digestive trou- 
bles. The remarkable example of the 
keeper of the £ddystone lighthouse off 
the coast of England only proves this 



fact too plainly ; for when that building 
was destrojed by fire in 1755, one of 
the men, on looking up at the burning 
mass, evidently with his mouth wide 
open (fW>m astonishment no doubt), 
swallowed 7 oz. of the molten lead that 
fen from the top, and lived for ten days 

After such a case as this, what will 
not the stomach valiantly ilhdertake? 
What has it not undertaken? Witness 
the fine collection of clasp knives in the 
Royal College of Surgeons' Museum, 
London, England, swallowed by an 
adventurous tar, endowed with more 
courage than sense. This human ostrich 
was in the habit of swallowing knives 
and tenpenny nails, partly fVom bra- 
vado, and partly from love of gain, for 
his messmates paid him for making 
these gastric experiments. However, 
one unfortunate afternoon he dined too 
freely on Sheffield cutlery, and paid the 
penalty of death for this unusual de- 
bauch. These are instances of the great 
endurance of the human stomach ; but 
they are by no means examples for us 
to turn fire-eaters or Indian jugglers, 
but rather to warn us against making 
any rash trials of the powers of the 
stomach ; for there is one little pecu- 
liarity about this organ, — that, after 
repeated attempts to stay the progress 
of a tough morsel, the valve which 
stops unlawful exports becomes weary, 
and passes the contraband wares through 
sheer fatigue. The consequence is, that 
the fragpnents which .withstood the pep- 
tic machinery of the stomach not only 
defy, but wound the more delicate sur^ 
&ce of the bowels. Pause then a mo- 
ment before raising a tough, though 
tempting morsel to the mouth, and think 
of the journey it will undertake, when 
it has once fairly shot the rapids of the 
gullet, and got into the seething current 
of food that whirls and eddies in the 
great stomach lake below; and, as 
lighter craft glide safely over the Ca- 
nadian rapids, so let your food morsel 
be light, and the transit will lose all 

Given, therefore, a stomach, strong 
yk sensitive, having a still voice like 
conscience, and bowels delicate and 
impressionable — is it not fiur that Na- 

ture makes us suffer through these or- 
gans, when we insult her so grossly by 
irritating them with bad food, ill- 
cooked, half masticated, and wholly 
unfit for the purposes* of nutrition ? 
We deserve to suffer, and richly too. 
Sometimes we pour chemical com- 
pounds into the beautiful laboratory of 
Nature, and call them stimulants, but 
our chemistry is ill-applied. Stimu- 
lants they are in one sense, for they 
excite the coats of the stomach and 
bowels into a state of chronic inflam- 
mation. But this is not the whole sum 
of our folly. Barely satisfied with the 
mischief abeady worked by bad food 
and villanous drink, we crown all by 
vexing the unoffending liver, "more 
sinned against than sinning," ivith blue 
pill, and the already wounded bowels 
with black draught. Is it wonderful 
that We suffer? Is it surprising that 
we fall sick? How about that pain 
behind the shoulders, as if somebody 
had knocked you down with a paving 
stone ; and that pain in the stomach, 
as if the same assailant had trampled 
on you when you were down? Did 
not that tough, leathery fragment, 
served as a steak, and chewed like rhi- 
noceros hide, play some part in origin- 
ating these pains? And did not the 
waiter, putting a decanter before you 
with an inky fluid in it, call it wine? 
Port wine I think he called it, and mis- 
quoted the year of its birth by a quar- 
ter of a century. And did you not pour 
this liquid fire over the inflammatory 
steak below, swallowed but not di- 
gested? And then, did you not, rush- 
ing wildly away to your office, bury 
yourself in your books ? And was it a 
wonder that the devil of indigestion, 
the demon of dyspepsia, piped to his 

This picture is by no means over- 
drawn. Hundreds of city merchants 
lead this spasmodic life for a few years, 
and then wonder that their stomachs 
are out of order. The wonder is, that 
their stomachs have kept in order so 
long. To those who say, ".You have 
shown us how to get indigestion, but 
we want to cure it," I answer, "Do 
not talk about curing it, but rather ask 
how you shall prevent the same." 



This will be the safer and the more 
satb&ctory plan; for tlioagh it is a 
yerj good thing to go to a doctor (for 
the doctor), it is a much better thing 
to keep away .from him (for the pa- 
tient) ; and if you can learn this happy 
art, enjoying good health at the same 
time, yon have discovered die true 
elixir of life. 

To begin with, take your meals reg- 
ularly: do not dine at 2 p.m. to-day, 
and 7 p.m. to-morrow, and 4 p.m. the 
day after; bat ^ some stated boar. 
Dining late is, as a rale, preferable to 
mid-day dinners, for dinner ought to be 
the principal meal of the day, and, to 
be enjoyed as well as digested, admits 
of neither harry nor interference. The 
work of the day should be over ; and 
a long rest, followed by light occupa- 
tion before bed-time, will be singularly 
conducive to health as weU as happi- 
ness. What profit or pleasure can you 
get out of a dinner when you know 
that an army of clerks awaits your su- 
pervision, or that some very tiJl and 
remarkably stout ledgers have to be 
balanced as soon as the cloth b re- 
moved ? Ton wait with impatience for 
the courses to be served, for the food 
to be swallowed ; but as for the diges- 
tion of the same, that is quite beyond 
your jurisdiction ; your business is to 
dear so many dishes in a given time ; 
your work is cut out before you, and 
you aiy not the man to shirk it. But 
you must consider that jrou have a 
stomach to superintend as well as clerks, 
and that if you do not give the bowels 
a passing thought, the balance will be 
dead against you in the ledger of health. 
Do not forget the good old adage, '' Af- 
ter dinner rest awhile." Let your 
meals be considered as important an 
item in the business of the day as watch- 
ing the firmness of foreign markets, the 
looseness of gray shirtings, or the fluc- 
tuating fortune;^ of the Mexican repub- 
lic. If you are to ignore the art of 
dining, you may as well repudiate at 
once the art of living and working, for 
rest assur^ that, unless you dine with 
judgment, you will not be able to cal- 
culate with foresight ; and, just for the 
lack of a little gastronomical knowledge^ 
you may be a bankrapt. 

Is there not the old story quoted by 
everybody who has written on food and 
digestion, namely, that the first Napo* 
leon lost the battle of Leipsic froa 
eating a badly-cooked mutton ch(^? 
He died oi cancer of the stomach. I 
do not say that this was brought on by 
his hastily-snatched, half-masticated 
cutlets and chickens ; but if we allow 
that a nun has a predisposition to ma^ 
lignant disease, is it unlikely that the 
most ill-treated organ should be attacked 
by the disease? Be careful as to the 
character of your food — your imports 
let OS call them^ let them be nourish- 
ing, digestible, and judiciously cooked ; 
for if these three qualities are combined, 
you will include a fourth, namely, that 
they shaU be palatable. It is ea^ 
enough to tell 3rou*what is nourishiDg; 
those household words, beef and mutton, 
imply a moltatude of dishes that shaU 
nobly support life, and rarely fail to 
please the palate. Possibly you may 
reply, " That's nothhig new ; anybody 
could have told us to eat beef and mat- 
ton; we have been eating it all our 
lives." True, you have done so, but 
unconscious of its merits. It may be 
that you have been eating beef for forty 
years, and yet you may be even now 
profoundly ignorant of its full merits 
and capabilities. You have not always 
eaten it with judgment ; you have eatea 
it tough, perhi^, or with the juices of 
the meat extracted, or with greasy ac- 
cessories that do not harmonize with 
either the meat itself or the consumer 
thereof. Perhaps you have, with un* 
flinching fidelity, stack to the same 
joints, scorning any change to interest 
the stomach or stimulate the appetite ; se 
that familiarity with these household 
words has bred contempt. Study va- 
riety, or let your cook do so, if she has 
brains (I do not write for those who 
keep a male chef de cuisine) ; if your 
cook lacks intelligence, let your wife 
come to the rescue; for, in commott 
courtesy, we wiU admit that sAe, at any 
rate, is gifted with these organs of 
thought. There is a general idea prev- 
alent that all beef is ]^retty much alike, 
more oflen toagh than tender. But 
there are bullocks and bullocks, beef 
and beef, of varying qualities. 




who introduced the nae of ohloro- 
fbrm into medical practioe, has just 
fNWsedawaj. After a Life of constant ao- 
tivity and industry, he has ceased from 
his labors ; and perhaps it may interest 
our readers to hear something about the 
anaesthetic agent with which his name 
18 80 closely associated. 

We need not attempt to explain fully 
the chemical conq)osition of chloroform, 
or the processes by which it is obtained. 
These questions would cany us beyond 
thescc^ of a paper like this, and would 
involve us in topics of nu»e interest to 
the chemist than to the general reader. 

Sulphuric ether was the immediate 
predecessor of chlorctform, and was the 
first^vapor of the kind which was em- 
ployed as an anaasthetic Strange to 
say, though it was not generally used 
till 1S46, its value had not been alto- 
g^thet unknown before that date. In 
isdated cases it was from time to time 
empbyed. One such instance is men- 
tioned by Sir Thomas Watson in has 
"Principles and Practice of Physic'' 
He writes, ^^ A former patient of mine 
told me this story of herself. She had 
been sorely tried in her earlier years by 
paroxysms of dyspnoea frequently re- 
ourring, and her life was thought to be 
in danger. After fruitless trials of 
various other remedies, the following 
method was adopted ¥dth the happiest 
result: About two teaspoonfuJs of 
Bolphuric ether were poured into a 
flaocer, which was placed on her lap, 
and over which she breathed as she sat 
gasping in bed, with a shawl thrown 
over her head to prevent the escape of 
the Yapor. Very soon a delightful sen* 
Ration of tranquillity ensued ; she felt 
[I quote her owu words] ^ as if going 
to heaven the most heavenly way;' 
and presently she sank back uncon* 
scious. As soon 9^ this happ^ied h^ 
husband (the late distinguished admiral 
of the fleet. Sir T. Byam Martin), by 
whom the process was managed, with- 
drew the shawl, and in a ^ort time 
Lady Martin gradually recovered, 
breiuhing calmly* 

^^ This mode of quieting her attacks' 
was begun in 1806^ a few years after, 
the publication of Sir Homphry Davy's' 
hint ; and it was repeated again and 
again, sometimes twice in the same day, 
for a very considerable period. Lady 
Martin survived the prediction of her 
speedy death for forty-three years." \ 

It was natural to expect that the 
success which attend^ the inhalation 
of sulphuric ether should lead medicai 
men to test the properties of other 
eubstanoes belonging to the same class. 

Chloroform was discovered almost at 
Uie same time, 1831-2, by Guthrie ia 
America, Soubeiran in France, and 
Liebig in Germany. Its exact chemical 
composition, however, was not ascer* 
tained till a few years later, 1834-5w 
It is most correctly described as con* 
sisting of three atoms of chlorine and 
one of formyle; hence its chemical 
name, terchloride of formyle. It is a 
clear, colorless fluid, heavy as com- 
pared with water, and very volatile. 
It has a strong etherial smell, and a 
very sweet taste. It is a pow^ul sdr 
vent, and acts rapidly on wax, resin, 
camphor, gntta percha, and other sul>^ 
stances. .i| 

Chloroform may be obtained h^ 
various processes, but it is manufao 
tured on a large scale by distilling, in 
definite proportions, chloride of lime (or 
common bleaching powder), alcohol, 
and water. It needs, however, to be 
thoroughly purified in order to render 
it fit for use in medical practice. It is 
of the utmost importance that it should 
be freed from all impurities, otherwise, 
when used for inhalation, it is apt to 
produce nausea, headache, and cough. 
It requires also to be kept with great 
care, for even the best is apt to undbrgo 
decomposition when it is exposed to 
light and heat. 'if\ 

In 1847 Dr. Simpson first experi- 
mented with chloroform. Its use was 
suggested to him by Mr. Waldie, of 
the Apothecaries' Hall, LiverpooL As 
is so often the case wi^ great discov- 
eries, that of the value of chloroform 
was made by accident. A saucer of 



Che fluid happened to be on the floor 
when a gentleman, accompanied bj his 
dog, entered Mr. Waldie's room. When 
the visitor was about to leave, the dog 
was found necur the saucer, stretched 
on the floor apparently lifeless, but after 
a few minutes it recovered conscious- 
ness, and became once more lively and 

« This incident waa not lost upon the 
sagacious chemist. He immediately 
made experiments upon various animals, 
and soon after he had an opportunity 
of calling Dr. Simpson's attention to 
the facts he had observed. 

That learned physician at once per- 
ceived the importance of the discovery, 
and without cUlay began to experiment 
upon himself and others. The result 
of his investigations was made public 
in November, 1847, and immediately 
commanded wide-spread interest and 
attention. Medical men everywhere 
took up the subject, and in the course 
of a very few months, the value of 
chloroform had been tried in every 
quarter of the globe. 
. From what we have said it will be 
seen that the credit due to Dr. Simpson 
is not that of having made a discovery, 
but of having conferred a still greater 
benefit on humanity by the application 
of known facts to the wants of mankind. 
He did not discover the gold mine, but 
he followed up the vein, worked the 
precious metal, brought it to the surface, 
and converted it into current coin. 
Chloroform had been known, as we 
have seen, since 1831, but for fifteen 
years it had remained on the shelf of 
the laboratory as little more than a 
chemical curiosity. Waldie had no- 
ticed its anaesthetic properties, but it 
was Simpson who first had the courage 
to inhale it himself, and then, by more 
extended trials, to ascertain the condi- 
tions under which it might be properly 
administered to different classes of 
patients, and be made available for the 
relief of human suffering. 

The Queen of England was pleased 
to confer a baronetcy on Dr. Simpson, 
as a tribute to his genius and a mark 
of the nation's gratitude. 

At first chloroform was thought to 
be a safer as well as a more convenient 

a^nt than ether, but e^ierience soon 
modified this impression, and it became 
apparent that equal caution nwst bAb- 
served in its use. 

The mode of inhalation which was 
recommended by Simpson, and which 
has been generally practised in Scot- 
land, is to sprinkle a small quantity of 
the fluid on a handkerchief, and to hold 
it over the patient's &ce. This method 
has its advantages. It is simple, it 
causes no discomfort, and the patient 
is not alarmed by the sight of vss^ 
strange apparatus, a point of no soiaU 
moment, especially in dealing with 
children. But it has also its drawbacks. 
It is an expensive method, for much of 
the fluid must be wasted ; but, what is 
of still more importcmce, the amoimt 
of the chloroform vapor administered 
is not regulated by any certain measure, 
and it is impossible to tell, froD\ mo- 
ment to moment, in what per centage 
the anesthetic is blended with the air 
which the patient is breathing. 

Hence a variety of ^^ inhalers*" have 
been invented, and much ingenuity has 
been expended on their construcuoo. 
In all of them the chief object in view 
has been to provide that a certain pro- 
portion, and not more than a certain 
proportion, of chloroform vapor is 
mixed with the air which is being 
drawn into the lungs. For while a 
small proportion is free from danger, 
and produces its effect without irrita- 
ting the patient, a larger amount might 
be prejudicial. For these reasons an 
inhaler of some kind is used in most 
of the London hospitals. 

No one has yet been met with who 
can resist the influence of chloroform 
altogether, but the way in which it af> 
fects different individuals varies con- 
siderably. Some fall asleep quietly, 
some become talkative and noisy, some 
get violent, and even pugnacious. But 
after the lapse of a few minutes, when 
a full effect has been produced, all 
alike fall into a deep sleep. As a rule 
the upper classes take it more quietly 
than the lower* The influence of edu- 
cation is here very apparent. Those 
who are accustomed to discipline them- 
selves, are quiet even when they b^ 
come unconscious; while those who 



ore intemperate and ungoyerned, lose 
all self-control as soon as their con- 
BcioiisBeBS begins to forsake them. 
Thus it happens that we meet with all 
varieties of behavior in people who 
are nnder the influence of anasstbetics ; 
some sleep qoietlj, some snore, some 
diatter, some sing, some praj, some 
Bwear, some struggle, some fight. 

The most touching incident we have 
ever seen, was in the case of a girl, the 
daughter of a clergyman. Her father 
was very poor, and, as her case was 
one which required two successive 
operations, she was admitted into a 
hospital. She was a small, slight, 
delicate girl of about seventeen. Her 
eyesight was so much impaired that she 
could hardly see at all. But I doubt 
not she had been well brought up, and 
that the care which had been bestowed 
on her had not been in vain, for it was 
easy to see in what direction her 
thoughts turned, and where she found 
her resting-place. When she was under 
the influence of chloroform she prayed 
and sung. 

It was a striking and touching scene, 
the poor, delicate, sightless girl ^ying 
on the couch, surrounded by a group 
of surgeons and students. 

On the occasion of the second opera- 
tion, when she had again to take chlo- 
roform, she behaved in exactly the 
same manner. 

But though as a general rule patients 
&11 rapidly and certainly under the in- 
fluence of chloroform, yet unhappily 
accidents occur, every now and then, 
which remind us that it is not without 
its dangers. It is not easy to estimate 
the risk which the patient incurs, and 
it has been variously stated. In any 
case it is very small. Perhaps we 
should not be fur from the truth if we 
said that Uiere was not more than one 
fatal case in two thousand. 

Undoubtedly the use of chloroform 
has introduced a fresh, though a very 
slight risk into medical and surgical 
practice. But, on the other hand, it 
must be remembered that before the 
days of chloroform patients sonoetimes 
died from the actual pain and shock of 
the operation, following, as it oflen 
did, upon a period of anxiety and 

I dread. Both these sources of danger 
are now, in a great degree, removed. 
The patient knows that he will be un« 
conscious of suffering, hence his ap- 
prehensions of the operation are greatly 
lessened, while the actual pain is alto- 
gether removed. Thus any evil effects 
that chloroferm may occasionally pro- 
duce are much more than counter- 
balanced by the beqefits it confers. It 
would be as unreasonable to condemn 
the use of anesthetics on account of 
the slight risk which is inseparable from 
them, as it would be to desire to abolish 
railroads because of occasional acci- 
dents ; while, on the other hand, chlo- 
roform has added so much to the re- 
sources of the surgeon that the number 
of successful operations has multiplied 
greatly, just as travellers are now far 
more numerous, since the introduction 
of steam cominunication, than they 
were in the old coaching days. 

If we examine those unfortunate 
cases in which persons have died while 
under the influence of chloroform, it 
will be found that some, at least, may 
be traced to the ignorance or careless- 
ness of incompetent administrators. If 
it were always given under proper ad- 
vice, and by an experienced hand, the 
number of accidents would, no doubt, 
be reduced. There seems every reason 
to hope that the progress of chemistry 
will ultimately furnish us with an agent 
that shall have all the advantages of 
chloroform and none of its disadvan- 

In this country, where, as we have 
seen, the modern anaesthetics had their 
origin, ether still holds its ground, be- 
cause it is considered a safer agent than 
chloroform. Fewer casualties have 
probably occurred from its use, but,^n 
the other hand, it has its own especial 
drawbacks. A greater quantity has 
to be given, and the inhalation is pro- 
tracted over a longer period. It is very 
apt to produce headache, nausea, and 
sickness, and these disagreeable symp- 
toms often continue for a day or two. 
For these reasons it has fallen into dis- 
use in England, and has given place to 
chloroform, which is much less fre- 
quently followed by these symptoms, 
and which produces its effect more rap- 



idly. In fact, we prefer cbloroform to 
ether from much the same kind of rea- 
son as that which induces ns to trarel 
by an express rather than by an accom- 
modation train. 

While we are speaking on this sub* 
ject, it may be well to inqaire whether 
there are any cases in wlKch the nse 
of chloroform is specially dangerous. 
The popular notion is, that whenever 
anything is wrong with the heart it is 
unsafe to take chloroform. This is 
very far from being the case. When a 
fatal accident has occurred it has often 
been found impossible to detect any 
tendency to disease in the patient, 
though occasionally the fatal result has 
been traced to a weak and degenerate 
heart. But, on the other hand, persons 
suffering from confirmed disease of the 
heart, or other important organs, as a 
rule seem to take chloroform as well as 
others, and to suffer no ill effect. In 
such cases there may, perhaps, be need 
of increased caution in the administra- 
tion, but there is no reason at all why 
the patient should be debarred from the 
relief which it confers. Hence it arises 
that the broad practical rule which gov- 
erns surgeons is this, that if the suf- 
ferer is well enough to undergo an 
operation at all, he is well enough to 
avail himself of the anaesthetic. There* 
fore our answer is, that the cases are 
quite exceptional in which chloroform 
ought to be withheld, and that none 
beed disturb themselves with the 
thought that they must not have re- 
course to it. 

It seems strange that the use of 
chloroform should ever have met with 
any opposition. Looking back from 
our present standing-point, it is difficult 
to tmderstand the controversy which at 
one time raged upon the subject. 

Letters were written, pamphlets were 
published, to prove that pain was apart 
of the curse inflicted upon man at the 
fall, and that it was sinful to attempt 
to escape it. 

In reply to this, letters were written, 
pamphlets were published, to show that 
pain is only one of the evils attendant 
on our fallen state, and that man is at 
perfect liberty to lighten his burden, 
as he best can, by the use of any 

means which Gh>d has put within his 

This controversy has now almost, if 
not quite, subsided in England, and 
from the highest ranks to the lowest, 
from the Queen to the poor hospital pa- 
tient, all classes are willing, and even 
anxious, to avail themselves of the re« 
lief afforded by ansesthetics. Indeed, 
it sometimes happens that the patient 
insists upon having chloroform when 
the surgeon sees no sufficient reason 
for recommending it. Though the risk 
in any case is very trifling, yet it should 
always be remembered that there ts a 
risk, and it hardly seems right to incur 
even this small amount of danger, when 
a moment's fortitude on the part of the 
patient will enable him to bear all that 
has to be done. 

But the removal of pain is by no 
means the only advantage which we 
owe to chloroform. If it enables men 
to bear better the suflering which is in- 
evitable, it also enables the surgeon to 
do far more than he could do without 
it. Its introduction has marked an era, 
not only in the history of medicine, but 
also m the progress of surgery. Many 
operations are now undertaken, and 
successfully performed, which would 
hardly have been attempted thirty yeara 
ago. We may mention, for example, 
some of the delicate operations upon 
the eye, where it is of the utmost im- 
portance that the patient should be 
perfectly still, and few persons have 
sufficient self-control to remain motion- 
less under such trying circumstances. 

Enough has been said to show the 
value of chloroform, and the claims 
which Sir James Simpson has upon our 
gratitude. Though he was not the dis* 
coverer, yet to him belongs the credit 
of having been the first to apply it to 
medical and surgical practice. It is no 
wonder, then, that he should have been 
regarded as a public benefactor, and 
that the news of his death should have 
been received with profound regret. 

His name will be handed down to 
future ages along with those of Har- 
vey, and of others whose lives mark an 
epoch in medical science. The dis- 
povery of the anaesthetic properties of 
chloroform is a blessing which is not 



confiDed to anj single period of the 
world's history, or to any one section 
of mankind ; but wherever and when- 
ever there is pain and suffering, — that 
is to say, as widely as the human race 
is scattered, and as long as it endures 
on the face of the earUi, — its value 
will be appreciated. It is possible, as 
we have said, that at some future time 
a still better anesthetic may be discov- 
ered ; but, even if this happy result be 
obtained, chloroform will always be re- 
membered as a signal example of the 
successful efforts made to diminish hu- 
man suffering, and of the victory of 
science over physical evil* 


Import has just been presented to the 
Academy of Medicine by a commissito 
appointed to examipe into the causes of, 
and remedies for, 'the excessive mor- 
tality among infants in France, from 
which we extract the following : The 
causes of the great mortality among 
newly-boro children may be referred to 
the following categories: 1. Misery, 
which is so of\en the cause of congenital 
weakness in infants. 2. The abandon- 
ment, sometimes unavoidable, but very 
often voluntary and unjustifiable, of 
lactation by the mother. 3. Ignorance 
of the most elementary rules of diet and 
physical training in infancy, and the 
prejudices of all kinds which arise from 
this ignorance. 4. The abuse (unfor- 
tunately too prevalent) of artificial lac- 
tation, always inferior to maternal 
lactatioa, and the difficulties in the ap- 
plication of which almost always pro- 
duce danger. 5. Too early feeding; 
this must not be confounded with arti- 
ficial lactation, though the two are often 
associated. 6. Want of necessary hy- 
gienic care ; and, especially, the chilling 
to which infants are too often subjected 
while being carried about. 7. The 
want of medical care at the commence- 
ment of illness. 8. The want of a 
regular surveillance and medical inspec- 
tion, in regard both to the regular supply 
of nurses, and to the care to be taken of 
the children. 9. The carelessness and 
culpable indifference of parepts with 
re^urd to their children who are senti 
oat to be nursed* 10. Thelarge num- 1 

her of illegitimate births. 11. The 
more or less criminal proceedings which 
constitute the masked varieties of in- 
fanticide. The remedies are arranged 
imder the following heads: 1. To 
prevent misery, all means of amending 
the physical and moral condition of the 
people sliould be put in force. 2. To 
combat the other causes, maternal lao- 
tation should be favored as much as 
possible, by increasing the number of 
sources of temporary assistance granted 
to poor women who are able to suckle 
their children, and the feeling of mater- 
nal duty aroused in the more fortunate 
mothers. 3. Sound hygienic principles 
and rules, especially as regards the 
feeding of infants, should be extensively 
diffused. 4. The administrative *and 
medical BurveiUance of infants sent into 
the country to be nursed should be ren? 
dered more effectual. 5. A more ex* 
tended distribution of infants put out to 
nurse should be encouraged. 6. The 
occupation of nurses should be sub- 
jected to regulations based on medical 
data, in conformity with the plan pro* 
posed by the commission. 7. Rewards 
should be established for devoted and 
meritorious nurses. Cases of notorious 
want of care should be followed up, and 
brought within the category of homicide 
by imprudence in cases where death 
occurs; and those women should be 
considered guilty of voluntary homicide 
who cause the gradual death of the 
infants abandoned to them. 8. A per* 
manent commission, under the title of 
Commission on Infantile Hygiene, 
should be instituted in the Academy of 
Medicine ; to which should be sent doo- 
umenU referring to the hygiene of in- 
fants and the inspection of nurses. 
Like the other pernmnent commissions, 
this one should propose annual rewards, 
with the sanction of the government. 
The report is to be forthwith discussed 
in the Academy. — Brit. Med. Jour. 

The pleasant odor emitted by fir trees 
in a sunny atmosphere has long been 
thought serviceable to invalids, and the 
vicinity of pine woods has been deemed 
salubrious. ■ 

Do not take medicines when you are 





Foortb Paper. 

OF all the benefits to be derived 
from a more extended Ipiowledge 
of chemistry, one can hardly conceive 
a greater than the influence which it 
must have on the affairs of common 
life. We constantly use materials, 
which may, from want of caution, cause 
serious evils, if not endanger life. 
Substances are used in the preparation 
of food, and even in its adulteration, 
which are extremely deleterious. A 
knowledge of the properties of these 
substances, and how they may be em- 
ploj^d without danger, and under what 
circumstances they become dangerous, 
is of the utmost importance. If persons 
generally could by simple processes 
» detect certain adulterations in articles of 
food, they would cease to be used, for 
the fear of detection would render their 
employment very hazardous to the adul- 
terator. A person who uses copper 
cooking vessels, knows that cleanliness 
is absolutely necessary, but he does not 
know that other precautions besides 
this must be taken to prevent the food 
cooked in them from becoming impreg- 
nated with copper. Copper is not what 
chemists call an active metal. If cop- 
per be put in a solution of hydric-chlo- 
ride, from which the air has been 
expelled by boiling, so that no oxygen 
be present, and if the bottle in which 
it is placed be carefully corked so as to 
exclude air, the copper will remain un- 
changed for some time ; slowly, how- 
ever, it will become dissolved, that is, it 
will replace the hydrogen in the hydrio- 
chloride and form a green liquid called 
cupric-chloride, the hydrogen gas being 
set free. Hydric-chloride is formed of 
one part by weight of hydrogen, and 
thirty-five and a half parts of chlorine ; 
sixty-three and a half parts by weight 
of copper replace the one part by weight 
of hydrogen, so that ninety-nine parts 
of cupric-chloride are formed, — if the 
experiment be performed in the same 
way ; but if the vessel containing the 
copper and hydric-chloride be left open, 
then the action will be much more 

rapid ; the liquid will become green in a 
very short time, showing that the pres- 
ence of air facilitates the combination 
of the copper and chlorine. In the 
acid liquid, in the presence of ah*, or 
free oxygen, the copper becomes oxi- 
dized, or converted into oxide, and the 
oxide is rapidly acted upon by the 
hydric-chloride — ^the hydrogen of which 
is not now set free, but unites with the 
oxygen of the cuprio-oxide. If a small 
quantity of the black oxide of copper 
be put into a vessel with hydrio-chloride, 
a green liquid is immediately obtained. 
'Aese experiments are easily performed, 
and well illustrate the value of chemi- 
cal knowledge, for they explain under 
what ordinary circumstances danger 
may arise from the use of copper cook- 
ing vessels. Cold water absorbs gases, 
in various proportions according to 
their solubility ; this is seen in the case 
of a bottle of soda water. Under 
pressure the water holds in solution a 
large quantity of a gas, called carbonic 
acid, which escapes in part when the 
cork is removed; but s^r the «oda 
water has got what is called flat, if it 
be warmed, bubbles of gas will be seen 
to rise to the surface, and a volume of 
carbonic acid, about equal to the vol- 
ume of the water, may be obtained with 
care. Water dissolves about three per 
cent, of oxygen, at the ordinary teiQ- 
perature of the air, but when boiled all 
the oxygen is expelled. When, then, 
a liquid containing an acid substance, 
which will dissolve oxide of copper, is 
boiled in a copper vessel, if no free ox- 
ygen be present, no oxide will be 
formed ; but if the liquid be allowed to 
cool it absorbs oxygen from the air, 
and oxide is formed, which is dissolved 
by the acid liquid. In a case men- 
tioned in the last article, (July No., 
page 63,) a woman and her daughter 
were poisoned by eating sour krout; 
but the sour krout had been allowed to 
get cool mnd stand for two hoars in the 
fcopper vessel, here the copper became 
oxidized during the two hours« and was 



dissolved bj the acid of the cabbage. 
Whenever acid substances are boiled 
in copper vessels, at the junction of the 
surface of the liquid with the vessel, 
some oxide of copper must be formed 
and dissolved. German silver, of 
which spoons and forks are made, 
which is an alloy of copper, zinc, and 
nickel, containing nearly half its weight 
of copper, should be used with caution. 
A case is recorded of a lady who, after 
partaking of eels at dinner, was seized 
with headache, nausea, vomiting, and 
colic. The eels, of which she had 
eaten, had been cooked in an earthen 
vessel with butter and vinegar, a spoon 
had been used and left standing in the 
compound ; Uie spoon was of German 
sflver. On analysis it was found that 
some of the copper in the spoon had 
been dissolved, and had got mixed with 
the food ; the spoon was well cleaned, 
and placed in a hot ndxture of bread, 
batter, and vinegar ; half an hour afler 
the mixtare had got cold, green spots 
were seen on it, and in twelve hours 
the spoon was quite green, as well as 
the butter in contact with it. Not long 
ago, copper was largely employed to 
give a green color to pickles. One 
would fear that the practice was not 
altogether discontinued, from the fact 
that some manufacturers find it neces- 
sary to state on their labels that their 
pickles are free from copper. From 
what has already been said, it is easy 
to conceive that copper may be present 
in pickles without being placed in them 
fraudulently, if copper vessels are used 
in their preparation. It is almost im- 
possible to conceive how, under such 
circumstances, copper can be entirely 
absent, and the quantity must depend 
on the care taken by the workmen. It 
is most desirable that all pickles should 
be tested before being used. On the 
continent, some few years ago, it was 
discovered that a salt of copper was 
used in making bread, to assbt the 
process of fermentation. When em- 
ployed in small quantities it is said to 
make the bread much lighter, and of a 
very white color. In larger quantities 
its presence could be detected, by the 
bluish color it imparts to the bread. 
In 1829 and 1830 the Belgian Gov- 
vol, u. — xz 

emment employed M. Barruel, M. 
Gauthier, M. Claubery, and M. Kuhl- 
mann, to investigate a report that sul- 
phate of copper was mixed with the 
bread in Bruges. They discovered that 
in 1816 and 1817, this salt of copper, 
under the name of alum-blue, was first 
employed by the bakers to raise their 
bread ; and had since been employed very 
generally. Bread made in this manner 
was examined, and small pieces of 
crystallized sulphate of copper were 
found in it ; when this was the case, the 
bread had a blue tinge. On chemical 
analysis copper was readily detected. 
Foreign syrups are also sometimes 
adulterated with copper. Sulphate of 
copper is used to decolorize the com- 
mon sugar of which they are made. 
The copper is precipitated by lime from 
the syrup ; but this is not idways com- 
pletely done, and some of the copper 
salt remains behind undecomposed. 
These syrups have sometimes been the 
cause of serious consequences to those 
who have partaken of them. 

Sulphate of copper is used in med- 
icine, sometimes as an emetic; for 
this purpose it is found useful where 
narcotic poisons have been taken. 
Externally, both the sulphate and ni- 
trate of copper act as escharotics. In 
solution the sulphate has styptic prop- 
erties, and is useful in stopping hem- 
orrhage. But care is necessary in ita 
external application. Animals have 
been killed when it has been a{^lied 
externally. Dr. Duncan killed a dog 
in twenty-four hours by applying sul- 
phate of copper to a wound. 

The symptoms produced by poison* 
ous doses of soluble copper salts aro 
very similar to those produced bj 
arsenic and corrosive sublimate ; there 
are, however, diflferences which will be 
noticed presently. In copper, as in 
arsenical poisoning, there are local and 
remote symptoms. The local are pro- 
duced by the irritating effects of this 
escharotic substance* Like arsenic, 
copper salts seem to adhere to the mu- 
cous surfaces and set up inflammatory 
action. When slowly, 
these appearances are more marked. 
That copper is taken up by the blood, 
has been expeximents on a^- 



imals, and whea acdog through <his 
medium on the system, the heart's 
action is interfered with -~ it loses its 
contractile power, and afler death, red 
blood is found in its cavities. Diffi- 
culty of breathing, palsy of the lower 
extremities, tetanic spasms, and a gen- 
eral derangement of Uie nervous sys- 
tem are the results of its introduction 
into the circulation. When two grains 
of verdigris dissolved in water were 
injected into the jugular vein of a dog, 
they caused vomiting in seven minutes, 
then rattling in the throat, and in half 
an hour death. There were no partic- 
ular morbid appearances found in the 
body after death. Half a grain killed a 
dog in four days ; and in addition to 
the preceding symptoms, there was 
palsy of the hind legs for a day before 
death. Six grains of sulphate of cop- 
per, introduced into the stomach, killed 
a dog without producing any appear- 
ance of inflammation. The symptoms 
which peculiarly characterize poisoning 
by copper salts, and whidi distinguish 
its effects from those of other irritant 
poisons, are the peculiar taste of the 
metal, which persists, even after the 
person is out danger, and in jaundice, 
which is oflen induced by over doses 
of copper salts. A case is given by 
Doctor Christison illustrative of the 
slighter forms of poisoning with copper. 
Two women and two young men ate 
of an acid confection miade in a copper 
vessel. The two women suffered from 
severe headache, constriction of the 
throat, nausea, colic, and extreme weak- 
ness. The young men, who had eaten 
more freely of the confection, had for 
some hours excruciating colic, severe 
pain in the mouth and throat, impeded 
breathing, and hurried irregular pulse ; 
and for twenty-four hours they suffered 
severely from headache and prostration 
of strength. The matters ejected from 
the stomach are often of a green or 
bluish color, and sometimes this tint is 
communicated to the skin, especially 
about the eyes. After death the skin 
is often yellow, and the internal parts 
exhibit the efiects of an irritant poison 
in a marked degree. Sometimes the 
action has been so violent as to cause 
perfiskcation of the intestines. Very 

f^uMitly masses of greeo matt^ are 
found, owing to the presence of parti- 
cles of copper salts. The best tseat- 
ment that can be employed is, aficr 
using the stomach-pump, to administer 
soothing drinks. Albumen (white of 
egg) forms insoluble compounds with 
the salts of copper, and is iherefore re- 
commended as an antidote. It must, 
however, be given in large doses. 

The results of experiments performed 
on animals are by no means satisfactory, 
and it will be seen presently, that ^ 
conditions under whidi the red oxide 
of copper is formed, are not very likely 
to exist in the stomach of an animaL 
Metallic iron is, doubtless, a good an- 
tidote ; the iron f^ecipkaites copper as 
metal firom its solutions, and, as metal, 
it is harmless. The iron should be 
administered in the form of fiUi^ 
Care should be taken not to administer 
acids, as they dissolve the compounds 
which copper salts form with organic 
substances. The analysis for copper is 
easy, unless it exist in the form of or- 
ganic compounds. Copper salts, as 
they are usually presented to ua, aie 
either blue or green in color, and Me 
usually prepared by dissolving the oxide 
in hydrogen sabs. As has been already 
stated, the metal is but slightly soluble 
in hydric chloride, and dissolves bat 
slowly in hydric sulphate* The red 
color and peculiar disagreeable smdl 
of copper is familiar to alL It is soft 
and ductile; and from the ease with 
which it can be worked, and from its 
chemical properties, it and its con- 
pounds are largely used in arts and 
manufactures. Metallic c(^per is pre- 
cipitated from solutions of its salts bv 
iron. Cementation, in the joaetallui^ 
of copper, is the application of this 
process to the extraction of the metal 
from its ores. Very minute traces ^ 
copper can be detected in solutions by 
its reduction by iron. Suppose any 
substance, say for instaace some ordi- 
nary pickles, are thought to contain 
copper, if a few bright needles be plaoed 
in some of the contents of the bottle 
containing them, if copper be present, 
it will be precipitated on the needles, 
and will coat them with a thin film of 
that metal. If the needles be carefully 


dried by Uotting pafier, aud placed in 
an open Tessel containiog ammoQia 
BohitioD, the copper will be gradoallj 
oxidized and dissolved by the ammonia, 
and the liquid will acquire a blue tint, 
which will be deep or light in propor- 
tion to the quantity of copper present. 
This is an experiment which can be 
Tery easily performed, and will never 
fail to detect copper, if it be present in 
quantities sufficiently large to be ii\ju- 
rioos to health. Copper forms two 
compounds with oxygen, one, in which 
sixty-three and a half parts of it by 
weight unite with sixteen of oxygen. 
This substance is a black powder usu- 
dly obtained by heating the nitrate 
until red fumes ceaae to be given off. 
It is also formed when copper is heated 
in air or oxygen. 

The rust of copper is not oxide, but 
a green basic carbonate ; it is Uib which 
gives the beautiful color to ancient 
bronzes. Copper does not oxidize in 
moist air, nor is it able to take the 
oxygen from steam. A current of dry 
hydrogen passed ov^ its oxide, when 
at a red heat, deprives it of its oxygen, 
water being formed, and pure metallic 
. oopper being left* If this finely divided 
eopper be heated in air it burns readily, 
and in this way it is used as a means 
of taking oxygen from its mixture with 
nitrogen, in an analysis of atmospheric 
air. If black oxide of copper be melted 
with glass, it imparts to it a beautiful 
green color, and is for this purpose 
largely employed in the manufacture of 
colored glasses. When a solution of 
caustic potash is added to a solution of 
capric sulphate, a bluish green precip- 
itate is thrown down, which is the hy- 
drated oxide of copper ; excess of pot- 
ash does not dissolve it. On boiling 
the mixture, the blue precipitate be- 
comes black, it ceases to be the hydrated 
oxide, and becomes the black oxide of 
eopper. It is strange that, in the pres- 
ence of water, cupric hydrate should 
become de-hydrated. The action of a 
solution of ammonia on copper salts is 
at first similar to that of caustic potash ; 
a blue hydrate is precipitated by it ; 
but when added in excess, the precip- 
itate is dissolved, and a clear transpar- 
ent deep blue solution ia formed. Thb 


action of ammonia is made use of in 
testing for copper. If a few drops of 
a very dilute solution <^ cupric sulphate 
be dropped on white paper and dried, 
they will har^y discolor it at all ; but 
when a solution of ammcmia is applied, 
they will directly become visible, aj^d 
of a blue colcur. A colorless liquid will 
immediately acquire a blue tint <m the 
addition of ammonia if it contain a 
cupric salt. This test taken ak>ne might 
mislead the analyist — as hickel salts 
behave in a similar manner when 
treated by ammonia. It requires, how- 
ever, much more of a nickel than of 'a 
copper salt, to produce a blue of the 
same depth ; the nickel blue is also more 
violet in color. The toxicologist would 
find no difficulty in distinguishing be- 
tween the two, Uie precipitation of the 
metal copper on iron, the ferrocyanide 
reaction, which will be described im- 
mediately, together with its behavior 
with potassic cyanide, sufficiently indi- 
cate the difference between copper and 
nickel, to prevent any mistake arising 
in an analysis, if due caution be used. 
The most delicate test for copper is the 
ferrocyanide of potassium ; it gives a 
brown precipitate; or if the quantity 
of copper salt present be very minute 
indeed, a brown discoloration in acid 
solutions, the precipitate is said to be 
dissolved by ammonia. Copper chem- 
ically combined with arsenic, as cupric 
arsenite, is largely employed as a pig- 
ment ; it is that beautifully bright green 
which is used in room papers. If a 
few drops of anmionia be placed on a 
piece of such paper, the green will be 
changed to blue by Uie ammonia, and 
the presence of copper being thus 
proved, that of arsenic may be fairly 
inferred. In analyzing for copper, it 
is always usual to pass sulphuretted 
hydrogen gas through the liquid ; when 
this is done a brown sulphiBe is de- 
posited. After the sulphide is washed, 
it is dissolved in hydric nitrate; and 
here the blue color of cupric salts shows 
itself at once, or is made apparent on 
the addition of ammonia. The com- 
pounds of copper which are usually 
met with, are the basic acetate or arti- 
ficial verdigris. The copper in this 
salt may be found by the jHrocesses 



already described, and the acetate may 
be discovered by its odor, or with 
greater certainty by heating the salt with 
alcohol and hydric sulphate, when acetic 
ether will be set free, >if hich is known 
by its peculiar and agreeable smell. 

The carbonate of copper, a basic-salt, 
which is formed by the action of moist 
air on metallic copper, and which is 
found native as malachite, when treated 
with hydric chloride is dissolved ; the 
effervescence which occurs indicates 
the presence of carbonic acid, which 
may be confirmed by the white precip- 
itate obtained, if the gas be passed into 
lime water. The sulphate of copper, 
called also blue vitriol and blue-stone, 
has been already described ; the pres- 
ence of the sulphate may be determined 
by the white precipitate which is thrown 
down from its solution by basic chloride, 
which precipitate is insoluble in hydric 
nitrate, and in hydric chloride. Nitrate 
of copper is a salt whose crystals have 
a deep blue color ; they are extremely 
deliquescent. Cupric chloride is green ; 
it is very soluble in water. These are 
the most important salts of copper 
which have been, or might be, used as 
poisons, and in each one of them the 
method of testing for that metal is the 
same as that already described. There 
are, however, compounds of copper 
which, although they are not likely to 
be used as poisons, are of sufficient in- 
terest to deserve a brief notice here. 
When freshly precipitated cupric hy- 
drate is treated with ammonia, it is 
dissolved, and a deep blue liquid is 
formed which has the property of dis- 
solving woody fibre. If some clean 
cotton-wool — which is the purest form 
of woody fibre — be shaken up with 
this ammoniacal solution of cupric hy- 
drate, it is slowly dissolved, and can 
be again precipitated as a gelatinous 
mass by the addition, to neutralization, 
of hydric chloride. The salts only of 
the higher oxide of copper have hith- 
erto been noticed : there is a lower 
oxide of copper, which is composed of 
one hundred and twenty-seven parts by 
weight of copper to sixteen parts of 
oxygen. This oxide is of a reddish- 
brown color, and its principal use is in 
glass-making. It produces the beautiful 

ruby color, so well known in stained 
glass windows. The salts of this oxide 
are not blue, but white : cupreous chlo- 
ride is a white solid, insoluble in wa- 
ter, but soluble in hydric chloride. By 
decomposing cupreous chloride with 
potash, the red oxide may be obtained ; 
but the more ready way is to precipitate 
it from an alkaline solution, containing 
cupric oxide, by means of grape sugar. 
The presence of organic matter in a so- 
lution of cupric sulphate, prevents the 
precipitation of cupric hydrate by pot- 
ash ; but if grape sugar be boiled with 
the mixture, the higher oxide is reduced 
to the lower, which is precipitated. 
Grape sugar exists naturally in many 
fruits ; it is found crystallissed in rai- 
sins, but it can be prepared by boiling 
common cane sugar with dilute hydric 
sulphate. It acts as a reducing agent, 
talung oxygen from bodies which do 
not hold it combined too strongly. 
Now these reactions are extremely in- 
teresting, as bearing upon a matter 
which has already been alluded to. 
Sugar has been considered an antidote 
for copper, inasmuch as it causes its 
precipitation as Uie red oxide. The 
sugar which produces this effect is 
grape sugar, not cane sugar, which has 
no such action, and the circumstances 
under which grape sugar does it are 
not such as are likely to exist in the 
human stomach. Again, the fact •that 
cupric oxide is not precipitated by pot- 
ash in the presence of organic matter 
is also important, as it shows that un- 
less organic matter be destroyed, cop- 
per cannot be discovered unless it be in 
excess of the organic matter present. 
Cupreous hydrate is like cupric hydrate, 
soluble in ammonia, but its solution is 
colorless, not blue ; when, however, it 
is exposed to free oxygen, for ever so 
short a time, the lower oxide becomes 
oxidized into the higher, and a blue 
color appears ; this solution, therefore, 
is a most excellent test for free oxygen. 
When cupric salts ai*e heated, so as to 
drive off theit water of crystallization, 
they become white, and in this condi- 
tion they rapidly take up moisture, and 
become blue again. This property is 
often made use of in the laboratory for 
taking water from alcohol. 





VENTILATION is a subject on 
which much has beeu written and 
said, jet but few people haye any clear 
or definite ideas about ventilating rooms 
which are in constant daily use. The 
general idea seems to be that all ^' sys- 
tems of ventilation" are complicated 
and expensive, and to be made avail- 
able only by a great outlay of time and 
money, and but few believe that good 
Tentikuion can be secured in any house 
that has doors and windows, merely by 
the exercise of judgment, and " know- 
ing how to do it." Among all classes 
of people there is a great want of knowK 
edge of the first principles of the rules 
th^ govern ventilation, and this ignor- 
ance is an obstacle that the physician 
meets daily — almost hourly — in his 
practice in a large city ; and he is 
obliged to combat it, and to enlighten 
people on what is necessary to be done 
to secure proper ventilation for his 
patient, and sometimes this escapes the 
attention of the physician even, or his 
instructions are not sufficiently clear, 
and consequently fail of their desired 
e&d. That the best ventilation to be 
aecBred is desirable, nobody denies; 
bat how to get it in houses of ordinary 
construction at short notice, without 
great expense or labor, is the question 
which I will try to answer. — There are 
certain general rules governing all 
iDodes of ventilation which we will here 
state : First, in regard to the necessity 
of ventilation. This is usually admit- 
ted, yet there are many who are ignor- 
ant of it, or have a very imperfect idea 
of why it ia required ; so for the ben- 
^ of those who do not know, we will 
try to show why ventilation is neces- 
sary. Pure air is composed largely of 
oxygen, without which animal life can- 
not be sustained, therefore this air is 
appropriated by the human body — en- 
tering it by the lungs ; so that every 
breath drawn by a person robs the air 
imniediately surrounding him of a per- 
tioQ of its vital principles, and every 
time the breath passes /rom the lungs 
it b loaded with carbonic acid gas, and 

other matters, the products of the waste 
of the body, more or less poisonous 
according to the amount contained in 
the air, so that every time this process 
of inspiration and expiration is per- 
formed, (some twenty times a minute 
in health, and much oftener in some 
diseases,) the air is not only deprived 
of its healthy principles, but poisonous 
matters are added to it. It is not 
merely the presence of carbonic acid 
gas in the air that renders it unhealthy, 
but the exhalations from the human 
body still further deteriorate it. As an 
illustration we will take the perspira- 
tion, some two or three pints of which 
are discharged from the surface of a 
healthy body in the course of twenty- 
four hours, and in very warm weather, 
in some diseases, and on unusual mus- 
cular exertion, the quantity is very 
much increased. It will seem almost 
incredible to many that so large a quan- 
tity can be given off from a single body, 
as but a few drops are generally visible 
at a time, but as it evaporates rapidly 
from the surface it escapes our observa- 
tion ; so you see there are constant ex- 
halations from the body even in health, 
and in disease they are increased, and 
many of them are of a dangerous char- 
acter, contaminating the air into which 
they are discharged, rendering it poi- 
sonous and unfit for respiration. The 
burning of lights and fires of any kind 
consume oxygen, its presence being 
necessary for supporting combustion. 
If a roll of lighted paper be held in a 
jar of air containing no oxygen, it will 
be extinguished. 

How is the Air kept Pure t 

How, then, vou will ask, is the air 
around us kept m a healthy condition 
— suitable for respiration — if the ordi- 
nary processes of every-day life, respira- 
tion and con)bu8tion tend to make it 
poisonous? — This is provided for by 
what chemists call the diffusion 0/ gases. 
If two jars containing gases of different 
density bo held mouth to mouth, the 
gases will mix with each other instantly ; 



and as the air is composed of gases, the 
same rale applies to it, viz., that air of 
different kinds mix readily with each 
other. To illustrate this, open a door 
between two rooms, one containing 
warm air and the other colder air, and 
no matter how slight the difference in 
temperature, you will feel the air rush- 
ing from one room to the other until the 
temperature is nearly equalized in both 
rooms ; so that as the air is always more 
or less in motion, the vitiated atmos- 
phere immediately surrounding our 
bodies is constantly being diluted by 
purer air being brought in contact with 
it, and this is the great principle of 
ventilation ; but how few know it, or 
knowing it, act on it. 

Beid Effects of Impure Air, 

How very often, when a physician 
approaches the bedside of a patient — 
who is suffering perhaps from some 
disease which is contagious in its char- 
acter, when the surroundings are favor- 
able for its propagation — does he find 
the temperature of the room approach- 
ing the same degree of heat as the 
patient's body, and the air loaded with 
the contagious exhalations of the dis- 
ease, owing to every door and window 
being shut, and sometimes even the 
openings which the carpenter and 
builder has left are closed up. That 
this arises as much from ignorance as 
neglect, I admit, but I do not admit that 
this ignorance is always excusable. 
Every one knows, or should know, the 
effects of the deprivation of fresh air on 
persons previously in good health. The 
operatives employed in a factory defi- 
cient in ventilation and light, who en- 
tered ruddy-cheeked and healthy look- 
ing, soon become pale and debilitated 
in appearance. Dwellers in under- 
ground cellars and other unventilated 
places do not retain their health any 
length of time, and are subject to very 
many diseases that those more favorably 
situated escape. Remember how the 
confined air of the ^^ Black Hole of 
Calcutta " destroyed those who an hour 
previously were in perfect health. An 
extreme case, of course, and yet the 
difference between that " Black Hole " 
and others that I have seen was only 

one of degree. I have been into more 
than one sick-room^ even, that Was only 
a modified '' Black Hole.'' K this is 
the effect of want of air on persons 
previously in perfect health, whose 
organizations are in the bestpossibfe 
condition for resisting noxious influen- 
ces, how much worse must its effects be 
on those who are prostrated with dis- 
ease, their bodies at a higher tempera- 
ture than usual, the circulation and 
respiration increased in frequency,— 
consuming more of the vital principle of 
the air — oxygen — and exhaling more 
of the principle which renders it poison* 
ous — carbonic acid gas? This par- 
ticularly applies to diseases of the chw- 
acter of typhoid and typhus fever. Tliis 
state of things too often exists where 
there is no necessity for it, and the only 
excuse to be offered is ignartxnce. This 
ignorance of the necessity of ventilating 
a room which has been made as close 
and as hot as an oven, where the coo- 
fined air is not only dangerous to the 
patient but to the attendants as w^ 
combined with the strong prejudice 
which many people possess against ad* 
mitting fresh air to the sick-room, in 
the fear that the patient shall ^^ catch 
cold,'* is a great obstacle to carrying 
out any system of ventilation, however 
simple ; and it is necessary that the 
patient and his attendants should he 
rightly informed on this point. That 
the passage of a strong current of ooUL 
air direcUy over the patient may be 
productive of injury, is true, but its 
danger is greatly exaggerated, and the 
means of avoiding a ^^ draught ** hot 
imperfectly understood. 

The Situation of the Sickroom, 

The situation and construction of oar 
modem houses varies so much, that it is 
impossible to describe any one mode of 
ventilation that will answer for all, and 
in many cases the attendants will have 
to exercise their judgment and eooi- 
mon sense ; and we will here state one 
or two general principles that will aid 
them in applying any mode of ventila- 
tion they may select. The first great 
principle of ventilation is this, — that 
ready means of admission for fresh air 
should be provided, and also easy 



means for Hi^ fool air to pass out. For 
this reason no room should be used as 
a sick-room (when possible to avoid it) 
thai is not provided with windows on 
two sides at least, or openings by doors 
or windows on opposite sides of the 
warn* A pleasant, snnnj room should 
ilways be selected when practicable* 

How Air is Purijied, 

. The aetioo of fresh air admitted into 
a badly ventilated roonl may be illus- 
trated in this way : if we pour clean 
water into a vemel already filled, or 
pardy filled, with water that is not 
dean, they mix readily with each other, 
and the water in the vessel becomes less 
impure ; if we continue to pour in fresh 
watee the vessel overflows, the surplus 
water runs off, <^ ^^® continued addi- 
tion of clean water in a short time ren- 
4t» that remaiming in the vessel nearly 
or quite pure. So it is with good and 
bad air (for air and gases mix more 
readily even than water). No matter 
how impure the air in a sick-room may 
be, the admission of fresh air at one 
nde, with means of exit for the foul air 
at another point, dilutes and purifies the 
air remaining in the room to such an 
extent as to render it suitable for respi- 

Impure Air is maitidy cU Top of Boom. 

The most impore air is generally 
near the ceiling, for although the car- 
bonic acid gas, and other agents that 
make it impure, are heavier than ordi- 
nary air, yet air which has been heated 
in the process of respiration by the 
longs is lighter than that which has not 
been used in breathing ; after escaping 
from the lungs, therefore, it ascends to 
the upper part of th« room, carrying 
with it the carbonic acid gas and other 
products of respiration and combustion. 
On a cold day, the air which has just 
been breathed can be easily seen as- 
cending upwards as it escapes from the 
hmgs. The upward tendency of hot 
air coming from a stove or register is 
also visible. 

Special Modes of Ventilation. 

Pit>bably there is no mode of venti- 
lation that can be readily applied to 

most sick-rooms, where no special ar* 
rangement for ventilation exists, more 
efTectual than that of opening widely the 
doors and windows of the room, cov- 
ering tbe patient well as he lies in bed, 
and allowing a current of fresh air to 
sweep through the apartment. In w€uiii> 
weather, of course, the temperature of 
the room will not be affected by this, 
and in winter the patient can remain 
covered until the temperature is raised 
to a comfortable degree. In this way 
all danger of a sick person ^' catching 
cold " will be avoided. This is a very 
[nimitive mode of ventilation, but an 
effectual one, as the current of fresh air 
sweeping through the room so effectu- 
ally removes the noxious gases and 
efflnvia as to leave the air remaining 
in the aparUnent comparatively pure 
and heaMiy. I have applied it in innu- 
merable cases where no better means 
of ventilation existed, always with the 
best results, and never with the least 
harm or inconvenience to the patient. 
In many cases this is the only means 
of ventilation available. A room can 
be purified thoroughly, in this way, 
several times daily. If it can be read- 
ily and conveniently done, the patient 
may be removed to an adjoining room 
during the process of ventilation, but this 
is not really necessary, as the bed-cover- 
ings will be sufficient protection from 
the air, however cold. For maintaining 
the air of a sick-room in good condi- 
tion after it has been purified, there is 
no better method than to open a win- 
dow, at each side of the room, for an 
inch or two, at top and bottom ; or a 
door or window opening into an ad- 
joining room or hall in which the air is 
pure and fresh, may be kept open. In 
cold weather it is only necessary to see 
that these openings are not in a direct 
line with tbe bed, and thus a " draught " 
of air over the patient wUl he avoided. 
Either of the above modes of ventilation 
may be applied to any room at a mo- 
ment's notice, as it is only a matter of 
opening doors and windows, and it is 
necessary to exercise discretion only in 
regard to their position with the pa- 
tient's bed, when the air outside is 
colder than that in the apartment. 
I now wish to describe a mode of 



Tentilation very easily applied, and ca- 
pable of being put in operation at a 
very few minutes' notice, in a house 
of almost any fonn of construction, 
from a palace to a cottage. I have 
often practically tested it, and have 
never seen it in operation except under 
my personal direction. Its cost is al- 
most nothing, and it is applicable to all 
kinds of weather, winter as well as 
summer, as all draught is avoided, — 
rainy weather as well as dry, — because 
with this arrangement the rain cannot 
penetrate ; whereas, if a window is 
lowered at the top in wet weather, the 
rain is very apt to be driven into the 
room. The plan is this: a piece of 
wood about an inch thick, three to six 
inches wide, and just as long as the 
width of the window-casing of the room 
to be ventilated, is provided. Now 
raise the lower sash of the window, I 

lay the strip of wood on the bottom of 
the window-casing,— its edge resting 
on this, -~ and the ends in the grooves 
in which the lower sash slides ; close 
the sash down snugly on the slip of 
wood, and you will find that an openiDg 
is led between the bars of the upper 
and lower sashes of the window where 
they meet in the centre, as shown in 
the engraving. Fig, 1. l?he air passes 
through this opening in an upward cur? 
rent towards the ceiling, or else will 
pass outward in a downward current 
from the top of the room, so that all 
danger of a draught is avoided. One 
or more windows fitted in this manner 
on each side of a room (or even on the 
same side if windows exist on but one 
side) , secures perfect ventilation without 
discomfort to the patient. On account 
of the difference in the temperature and 
equilibrium of the air in the room and 


A» sllpof wood, lu edge reitlQg on 0, bottom of window easing. 6, lower Mwb raised, but eloeed down 
on A. i>, opening between aasnea throngh wbioh the current of air paiiea in direction indicat »d by 



that outside, an outward aud inward 
current will be established, a stream of 
fre^ air passing upward in the direction 
of the opening between the sashes of the 
window, toward the ceiling of the room, 
and another current passing downwards 
from the top of the room through the 
window on the other side, thus main* 
taining a nearly perfect system of ven- 
tilation, and one that can be put in 
operation more readily than any other 
plan known. The direction of the cur- 
rents is such that the foul air is re- 
moved from that portion of the room 
where it is apt to be most abundant, 
and yet the patient is free from its in- 
fluence and from all danger of a draught. 
The use of this easy means of ventila- 
tion need not be restricted to the sick- 
room, but it would be well if all the 
rooms of our houses had one or more 
windows fitted in this manner, — par- 
ticularly sleeping-rooms, — and thus an 
efficient means of ventilation could be 
secured adapted to any season of the 
year. The slips of wood can be painted 
of the color of the window, so that they 
will not be readily noticed, or they can 
be made of ornamental woods, so as to 
be used in parlors and drawing-rooms, 
if necessary. This system of ventila- 
tion would be nearly perfect if it could 
be effected nearer the ceiling, but, when 
necessary, the upper sash can be lowered 
a little at the top. If the slip of wood 
has been properly fitted to the grooves, 
no draught whatever will be felt at the 
bottom of the window. 

In order that any system of ventila- 
tion may be effective, it is necessary 
that the air admitted to the room 
should be as pure as possible. To this 
end it is imperative that the location 
of the sick-room, its surroundings, and 
the surroundings of the whole house, 
should receive attention. The sick- 
room should be as far removed from 
sinks, water-closets, etc., as possible, 
or if near them, care should be taken 
that their covers are tightly fitted, as 
otherwise dangerous gases are likely 
to escape into the air of the apartment. 
Attention should be paid to the drains 
and cesspools, and the cellars and 
yards about the house should be kept 
free from decaying animal and veget- 

able matters, and heaps of refuse of 
any kind should be prevented from 
accumulating in the vicinity of the 
house and grounds. All offensive 
matters should be instantly removed 
from the sick-room, and the apartment 
purified at once. The ordinary disin- 
fectants, carbolic acid, chloride of lime, 
etc., by being diluted with water and 
exposed to the air in shallow vessels, 
will destroy any offensive odor, but 
they sometimes do more harm than 
good by concealing bad smeUs and pre- 
venting attention being directed to their 
cause. The best disinfectant is the 
removal of the cause, and the admission 
of plenty of fresh air to replace that 
which has been contaminated. It may 
not be generally known that furniture 
and clothing ca^ch and retain in their 
substance the exhalations of disease; 
therefore ever3rthing of this kind which 
has been exposed to the air of the sick- 
room should be freely purified, and, if 
possible, thoroughly washed. There is 
no doubt that disease is oflen carried 
from one place to another by means of 
clothing, particularly woollen fabrics. 
The bed-clothes should be changed as 
frequently as possible. The presence 
of too many persons in the sick-room 
should be avoided, as they can be of no 
benefit, and do harm by helping to con- 
sume the fresh air of the room. -— How 
shall we know when the air of a room 
is impure? may be asked. There is 
no better guide for this purpose known 
at present, than the sensations ex- 
perienced by a person coming from the 
fresh air into a room where the air is 
loaded with impurities, for they will 
quickly perceive Uie foul odors, the hot 
stifling character of the air, and, if not 
accustomed to it, will soon be attacked 
with headache and drowsiness. It is 
possible that some time an instrument 
may be devised that will show the 
state of purity of the air in a room, as 
the thermometer and barometer now 
indicate its condition in other respects. 
If attention be paid to the details 
spoken of, and some one of the above 
modes of ventilation adopted, no diffi- 
culty will be experienced in keeping 
the air of a sick-room in such condition 
as will be most favorable, not only for 



the patient^s recovery, bot for the 
health and comfort of the attendants. 
In very many cases the sickness and 
prostration experienced by th6se who 
have been in attendance on the sick, is 
dae more to the effect of the poisonous 
air of a sick-room T^hich has not been 
properly ventilated, than to any other 

In this connection some may desire 
to know, how the oxygen of the air, 
which is constantly being consumed by 
the respiration of the whole animal 
kingdom and by the innumerable pro- 
cesses of combustion which are con- 
stiintly going on, is replaced. This is 
effected by the operation of one of the 
lAws of compensation so abundantly 
presented by nature in her different 
aspects. The life of the animal king- 

dom is sustained by the consumpdon 
of oxygen ; -— and Cflorbonic acid gas 
(which is poisonous to animals) is 
given off by tfabm ; ihe vegetahU Mn^" 
dam, on the contrary y get their life from 
this very gtu which is poisonous to ani- 
micUsy and which is absorbed from the air 
by trees, phmts, flowers, and vegetables 
of all kinds ; these pltMn^, etc., in their 
turn give off oxygen, which is necessary 
for the life of animals, and thus these 
two great systems of animal and 
vegetable life furnish each other with 
the substances necessary for maintain^ 
ing themselves in healthy growth and 
vigor, giving strong evidence (as every 
process of Nature does) of the great 
wisdom and power that created and 
rules the Universe. 


OF all mechanical powers, again, 
the simplest are those known as 
levers, of which there are three vari- 
eties. Now, a lever consists of a rigid 
or unbending bar or rod, whereby a 
force is transmitted from one point to 
another, sometimes gaining power, 
sometimes losinof it. In one fbrm it 
consists of a rigid rod, movable up- 
wards and downwards only, on a given 
point, which is called a fvlcrum. At 
the one extremity of the rod a certain 
power is exerted, at the other is the 
weight to be rabed, or the body to be 

Now when the fiilcrunl is near the 
weight, the power will have the advan- 
tage of the long arm of the lever ; but, 
on the other hand, will have a longer 
distance to travel through before bring- 
ing the weight to a certain level. On 
the other hand, were the fulcrum nearer 
the power than the weight, there would 
be a loss of power ; but a gain in the 
distance to be travelled through, which, 
as it must be done in the same time by 
both arms, is technically known as a 
loss of velocity^ On the other hand, 
were the fulcrum equally distant from 
power and weight, both would be in 
exactly the same predicament; there 
would be neither gain nor loss iu power 

or velocity, but the force would be 
transmitted unimpaired from power to 
weight, arid the velocity with which 
these wou]d pass through a given dis- 
tance would be the same. This is the 
condition in that useful example of a 
lever, the common balance for weigh- 
ing sugar and tea- and such like com^ 
modities, where the pound weight tg 
the power, the knife-ecq^ by which tbe^ 
baUmce is suspended is the fulcrum, 
and the substance weighed is the 
weight to be raised. 

In another form of lever we have* 
the power at one end, the fulcrum at 
the other, and the weight between the^ 
two ; so that it is evident that in this 
there must always be a gain of power, 
as the weight, being nearer the fulcrum 
than power, will rest more upon that 
extremity of the lever, whilst there is 
a loss of velocity, the power having to 
to travel through a greater distance in 
a given time than the weight has. 

In still another form of lever the* 
very reverse is the case, for, in this in- 
stance, the weight is at one end, the^ 
fulcrum being at the other, whilst tiie 
power is between the two ; so that, in 
this case, there is* invariably loss of 
power and gain in velocity. As com- 
I mon iQttstrations of th^se forms of le?^ 

Muscmjtit MOTION. 


ers, ve inight take of the fh^ the act 
of stiniog the fire with a poker ; here 
the ooate are the wei^t to he raided, 
the bars of the grate are the fulcrum, 
and the power is the hand applied to 
the end of fhe poker. So, of the sec- 
ond, a man pushing a wheelbarrcAr is 
a good example: here, the fnlcrtmi 
consists of the wheel resting on the 
ground, the weight lies in the barrow, 
and the force is applied through the 
mediam of the handles beyond it. Of 
the third form of lever we might take 
ao example from a man in the act of 
dragging from the wall a ladder lean- 
ing against it ; this he does by pulling 
one of the steps on a level with his 
dioulder (the power), and pushing his 
foot against the lowest step of the lad- 
der (the fulcrum), and so raising the 
ladder (the weight) straight up in the 

When we come to examine the hu- 
man bodj, we find examples of all 
these forms of levers, although not in 
the same abundance. Thus of the first, 
where the fulcrum lies between the 
power and the weight, we may take 
the common illustration of a man who 
has fallen asleep in his chair, when in- 
sensibly his head falls, forward on his 
chest. Suddenly he awakes, and 
throws up his head, thus calling into 
play a lever of the kind described. 
For, here, we have the head hanging 
forward as the weight, the fulcrum is 
the baek-bone on which the head x^tSj 
whilst the power is the muscles fixed to 
the back of the head and the back of 
the chest. The same kind of action is 
seen in a horse throwing up his head 
after drinking, and so on ; but levers of 
this kind are not very numerous in the 
human body. 

The second form is exemplified in 
that kind of action which is implied by 
a man standing on tiptoe, for in this 
case the whole weight of the body, 
which ordinarily rests on the arch of 
the foot, is thrown forward, so as to 
rest on the toes, by means of the strong 
mnscles in the calf of the leg contract- 
ing, and dragging up the heel. The 
toes are the fulcrum ; the body resting 
on the arch of the foot is the weight ; 
and the tendon of Aehilles connecting 

the great muscles of the calf with the 
heel represents the power. 

Neither is this kind of lever commoft 
in the human body, which, for the most 
part, chiefiy afibi^ illustrations of the* 
third kind of lever, where the weight, 
is at one end, the power in the middle, 
and the ^Icrum at the other end. Ta 
take a comnM)n example: in bend** 
ing the forearm and hand on the arm, 
so as to bring the hand on a level with 
the shoulder, a strong muscle, called 
the biceps^ is brought into play. Thia 
is the power, and it acts on the forearm 
just in front of the elbow joint, which 
is the fulcrum, whilst the hand, and 
anything contained in it, represent the 
weight to be raised. Now, the reason 
why this kind of lever is so much more^ 
common in the human franate than any 
of the others is simple enough. There 
is, in the first pku», the fact that it 
admits of much greater symmetry, but, 
from our present point of view, this is 
of no consequence ; the second is, that, 
in the animal frame, the power which 
may be applied is practically unlimited, 
so that a gain of velocity is of much 
greater importance than a loss of power^ 
fi>r a muscle can easily be made big 
enough to insure strength as well as 

Still, in the human body, the means 
of employing force are identical with 
those seen in the steam-engine, for 
there, also, we have to deal with a 
series of levers. The up-and-down 
motion of the piston is communicated 
by means of a crank to a horizontal 
beam, which bears one or more 
toothed wheels, or some similar means 
of carrying power, fiom one spot to 
another. But these toothed wheels are 
only levers, where the axle is at once 
fulcrum and power, a combination 
which implies the greatest possible 
velocity with the greatest expenditure 
of power. The wheel which is driven 
by the one attached to this axle repre* 
sents the weight. 

When further we come to consider 
these mechanical forces as appHed to 
the human body, we have to notice 
that, in very many instances, the ten- 
don of a muscle is inserted obliquely 
into its bone ; this implies an additional 



waste of force, for the nearer the per- 
pendicular a force is brought to act on 
a lever, the greater is its effect. But, 
just as outside the body we find the 
direction of a force changed by means 
of a pulley, so we find the same thing 
accomplished in the body, when the 
teodon of a muscle is bound down by 
a sheath or a ligament, thereby effect- 
ing the change of direction with very 
little loss of power. 

In all muscular actions taking place 
in the human being, the mechanical 
principles we have laid down are ob- 
served, but they are probably best 
illustrated by the various forms of pro- 
gression, that is, moving from one 
place to another, employed by the 
human being. This leads us to con- 
sider another point in mechanics con- 
nected with what is known as the hoAt 
of support^ as applied to the centre of 
gravity. Every one knows how much 
more difficult it is to keep upright a tall, 
thin body, than a broad and flat one ; 
or, to take an extreme instance, to keep 
a spinning top upright on its point than 
on its head. This is because the base 
of support is narrow in the one case, 
broad in the other. In walking at sea 
a man strives to keep his feet apart, 
because the line from the centre of 
gravity naturally falls between his feet, 
and the farther they are apart the 
greater is his basis of support, and 
this habit gives to sailors their peculiar, 
and, to landsmen, awkward looking 
gait. There is an old saying, that cats 
always £Etll on their feet ; the reason is, 
the line from their centre of gravity 
falls downwards to the ground between 
their four limbs, and being extremely 
active they can always manage to keep 
it there. So babies, when beginning 
to move about, crawl before they walk, 
the ceutre of gravity being so much 
more easily kept within the base of 
support in the one case than in the 
other. As soon as the centre of gravity 
is disturbed, so that a line drawn from 
it, perpendicular to the surface of the 
earth, falls without the base of support, 
a movement must be made, or the indi- 
vidual will fall down. This explains 
the old trick of asking a man to walk 
up to a wall, to place one foot close to 

it, and parallel with it, and then, ask- 
ing him to raise the other, he finds he 
cannot do so without falling, simply 
because his centre of gravity would 
fall without the narrow base of support 
afforded by the one foot. 

New let us consider the means by 
which a man may move from one place 
to another, thereby expending force in 
causing the contraction of certain mus- 
cles, these muscles acting on certain 
bony levers, whereby, the body is 
moved. This leads us to consider the 
ordinary attitude of man in walking, 
the erect posture characteristic of the 
human race. The maintenance of this 
posture is not a merely passive act, for 
it requires the constant action of a 
certain number of muscles, which act 
in opposite ways, and so keep the 
human being upright. The first thing 
to be noted is the way in which the 
body is supported on the foot. The 
foot itself consists of an arch, the base 
of which is more extended in front 
than behind, and the whole weight of 
the body is made to fall on this arch by 
means of a variety of joints. These 
joints further enable the foot to be ap- 
plied to rough and uneven surfaces, so 
that the flat portion of the foot may be 
adapted to these without inconvenience. 
The foot is connected with the leg by 
the ankle joint, before and behind 
which pass down tendons of muscles 
situated in the leg and directed to the 
toes, so that when both contract equally, 
the leg is held firmly on the foot or the 
foot on the leg. The same arrange- 
ment is seen at the knee and at the 
hip ; and in each instance we have a 
series of muscles on one side which 
may be made to antagonize those on 
the other, and those in front to oppose 
those behind: by the simultaneous 
action of all these muscles the limb is 
held fast, and the upright position is 
maintained. The one set of muscles, 
which keep the limb straight, are 
called extensors^ those which bend the 
limbs are called ^xors. It will thus he 
seen that the maintenance of the erect 
posture is by no means a passive effect, 
but the result of constant muscular 
contraction, so that when a man is 
stunned, or in any other way loses the 



command of hb muscles, the first con- 
sequence is his tumbling down. The 
same names are applied to the muscles 
of the arm, but they are only called 
into play at intervals, and are not so 
constantly in action as the muscles of 
the lower extremities. 

Connected with this subject is a 
Tenerable joke current among students 
of medicine, to the effect that, once on 
a time, a rude examiner asked a student 
who was being examined by him, 
*^ Now, sir, what muscles should I call 
into play were I to kick you down 
stairs ? " to which the dutiful reply was, 
*^ The extensors and flexors of my arm, 
sir; for I should immediately knock 
you down." In this same action of 
kicking, exactly the same muscles are 
called into play as in keeping the body 
upright, but they act in a different way. 
Wlfen a man stands erect, his foot 
planted firmly on the ground, any con- 
traction of the muscles of the foot 
would only result in raising the body 
as on tip-toe ; but should the limb be 
raised off the ground by bending the 
knee, then the muscles can act freely, 
and the foot can be moved in any direc- 
tion ; in the one case, the foot is the 
part roost firmly fixed — in the other, 
the body is so. 

Now, in walking, the first thing done 
is to throw the weight of the body on 
to one limb so as to free the other, 
which is then bent and flung forward 
until it reaches the ground ; the centre 
of gravity advancing so as to fall be- 
tween the two limbs, and beyond the 
original basis of support. When the 
foremost foot has been planted on the 
g;round, the hinder one is found to be 
raised at the heel, so as to rest on the 
toes only if the forward step has been 
a long one, but this is not the case in 
ordinary walking. The muscles are 
now powerfully called into play so as 
to act upon the leg and foot ; but this 
being resisted by the toes planted 
against the ground, the opposite effect 
takes place, that is to say, the body, 
being more movable than the foot, is 
thrust forward. The hinder foot is 
carried with the body until advanced 
to a level or in firont of the other, the 
centre of gravity being at the same 

time carried forward with the body. 
Running is effected in the same way, 
but at a quicker rate, and the centre of 
gravity is generally kept quite in ad- 
vance of the base of support ; so that, 
if the feet are not moved quickly 
enough, or are interrupted in their pro- 
gress, the individual is certain to fall. 

It will thus be seen that the move- 
ments of the human body are effected 
in accordance with the same laws as 
regulate movement in the inanimate 
world. Of course we do not now speak 
of the intelligence displayed in these 
movements — that is a totally different 
thing ; we only deal with the mechanics 
of motion as seen in, and illustrated by, 
the human body. In another article 
we shall speak of the adaptation of 
these principles to actual life in the 
practical forms of gymnastics and 

Statistics op Life. — The yearly 
mortality of the globe is 83,333,333 
persons. This is at the rate of 91,554 
per day, 8,730 per hour, 62 per minute. 
Each pulsation of the heart marks the 
decease of some human creature. 

The average of human life is 88 

One-fourth of the population die at 
or before the age of seven years. 

One-half at or before 17 years. 

Among 10,000 persons, one arrives 
at the age of 100 years, one in 500 at- 
tains the age of 90, and one in 100 
lives to the age of 60. 

Married men live longer than single 

In 1,000 persons, 95 marry, and 
more marriages occur in June and 
December than in any other month of 
the year. 

One-eighth of the whole population is 

Professions exercise a great influence 
on longevity. In 1,000 individuals 
who arrive at the age of seventy years, 
forty-three are clergymen, orators, or 
public speakers, forty are agriculturists, 
thirty-three are workmen, thirty-two 
are soldiers or military employesj 
twenty-nine advocates or engineers, 
twenty-seven professors, and twenty- 
four doctors. 




SUGAR has the same general com- 
position as starch. It is, however, 
soluble in water, and when taken into 
the stomach is readily absorbed and 
taken into the blood. It has two forms, 
which are called cane-sugar and fruits 
sugar. They both act alike on the sys- 
tem. Fruit-sugar is found in fruits, 
and is especially contained in the fruit 
of plants, as grapes, figs, plums, pears, 
and other sweet fruits. Cane-sugar is 
crystallizable, and is separated from 
the sugar cane, sugar beet, sugar maple, 
and other plants for didetical use ; all 
the sugar ordinarily employed for food, 
and the manufacture of sweetmeats, is 
of this kind. Sugar is contained in 
small quantities in all kinds of vegeta- 
ble food. Fruit-sugar undergoes the 
process known by the name of fermenr 
tation^ by which the sugar loses a cer- 
tain quantity of carbonic acid, and is 
converted into a compound known by 
the name of alcohol. 

While the sugar-cane is the principal 
source of the sugars of commerce, the 
sugar-best of France yielded in 1865-6 
no less than 275,000 tons, and in 1859 
the sugar-maple of America 30,000 
tons ; and more recently sorgham has 
been made to yield an immense amount 
of excellent syrup. 

But sugar is by no means of recent 
discovery. It must have existed in 
China (where the sugar-cane is indi- 
genous) and India for a very long time, 
and probably it was produced there, 
almost spontaneously, in a wild state. 
The first writers who mentioned it 
called it Indian salt, A celebrated 
Roman physician, of the name of Domi- 
tian, said that, whilst by its color and 
hardness it resembled salt, in sweetness 
it was like honey. As is the case even 
now with tea to a great extent on the 
Continent, sugar was used by the Ro- 
mans for medicinal purposes only. 
With the importation of the cane, how- 
ever, into Europe, either by the Sara- 
cens or by Europeans on their return 
from the Crusades, sugar acquired anew 
and greater importance, as an article 
of commerce and industry. Landed 

first at Cyprus and Sicily, it wasthenoe 
carried into Madeira, and at the com- 
mencement of the sixteenth century was 
transplanted to Brazil and to several 
Spanish West India Islands. Intro- 
dooed into Barbadoes under the auspi- 
ces of a warmer temperature (sugar 
thriving best when the mean tempera- 
ture is 76^ or 77^), it speedily became 
a most profitable industry. The Carih- 
bee Islands followed, and so great was 
the avidity to cultivate it, that, laborers 
being scarce, and the work of cultivat- 
ing the cane in so hot a climate bj 
white men so very difficult, the id^ 
suggested itself of getting negroes for 
the purpose, for which the slave trade 
was established on the coast of Guinea. 
A good deal has to be done btfore 
sugar from the cane can be used to 
sweeten our articles of food and drink. 
The cane is subjected to an enor- 
mous pressiure, so as to extract the 
juice ; which is made to run into large 
copper vessels or clarifiers, heated by 
steam, in order to separate the liquor 
from its impurities. When the clarifi- 
cation is complete, the bulk of the juice 
is reduced by boiling it in large pans, 
and is afterwards placed in concentra- 
tors or vacuum pans, till finally the 
sugar is cystallized ; and, when separ- 
ated from the uncrystallized portion, is 
put into hogsheads, and sent thus to the 
sugar refinery. There the sugar is 
again liquified, heated, filtered, and 
concentrated; it is placed in conical 
pots with the apex downward, and with 
a hole at the lower extremity; and, 
finally, a small portion of saturated 
syrup of sugar, not clay as formerly, is 
thrown over the surface of the pots, so 
that its moisture may percolate through 
the mass and contribute to its purifica- 
tion, a process now greatly facilitated 
by the centrifugal machine. The im- 
purities of sugar are either organic, — 
which consist of fragments of the cane, 
grape-sugar, albumen, an insect pecu- 
liar to cane-sugar, fungi, woody fibre, 
and starch granules, — or inorganic, 
which consist of lime, lead, iron, sand, 
and grit. The insect referred to was 



discovered by Dr. Hassall, who was 
the first to employ the microscope in his 
researches* ioto the adulteration of sugar. 
This insftct is a beetleiUke animaleule, 
joi the genus Acarw^ and approaches 
somewhat in its organization the iUh 
mUe. It is found in almost all pnre- 
fined cane-sugar, and hence those who 
use this kind of sugar to sweeten their 
drinks mu$t swallow several of these 
diBgnsting insects in a living state, for 
the heat of tha btt^erage is not sufficient 
to kill them« 

The presence of these insects, in con- 
nection wixh the other impurities named, 
render the oommon hrown sugars of 
oommerce whoUj ujifit for consumption. 
Hence the necessity of refining it, by 
which process almost all of these im- 
purities are got rid of. 

But how is it that sugar planters do not 
attain, or try to attain, the maximum 
of excellence- as well as the maximum 
ef quantity? Why do they send us 
jQgar with so much impurity, if by a 
little more labor and energy they can 
render it as good and pure as we can! 
But as well may we ask, why is it that 
India, where ootton has been an indig- 
enous produce for centuries, has never 
succeeded in mamifactairing it so 
cheaply and well as we can ? Why is 
it that England can afibrd to buy up 
the raw material of cotton from Amer- 
ica, pay the freight upon it, manufac- 
ture, and send it back again to compete 
successfully with the American manu- 
£u!turer8 ? The reason is very plain, — 
it is simply because the English have 
extraordinary facilities and peculiar 
advantages for manufacture, which en- 
able them to produce cheaper than any 
other nation. Compare, for example, 
the position of a refiner in the West 
Indies and in this country. There the 
machinery and apparatus are much 
more expensive, for they roust import 
them. They have greater difficulty and 
expense in effecting repairs ; they have 
to import coal ; labor with them is very 
oostly and uncertain) whilst skilled la- 
bor is especially expensive. Capital 
again oonmiands a much higher interest. 
Even water, so important in the man- 
u£icture of sugar, is quite scarce there 
as com|)ared with tlu^ country. But 

independently of these disadvantages, 
the planter has plenty to do to cultivate 
the land and gather the crops. And 
if, a^er he has attended to that, he at- 
tempts the manufacture of sugar, he 
can only refine the sugar from his own 
crop, and for so many months in the 
year— -whibt here, a refiner has the 
command of the market, and can work 
all the year through. There is no 
doubt that tlie sugar industry in the 
West Indies and at the South is capable 
of much greater improvement, and that 
much progress may yet be made, both 
in the chemical processes and in the 
manufacture ; whilst the economical 
management of the plantations is in 
the highest degree defective. As an 
article of food, sugar possesses highly 
fattening properties, and as such must 
be considered as serving mainly for the 
production of warmth in the body; 
though in some degree, it also tends to 
promote digestion. There are, how- 
ever, many persons who cannot use it 
as food to any great extent, on account 
of its inclination to produce acidity. 
In large quantities there can be no 
doubt that sugar peculi€U'ly affects the 
digestive organs ; and perhaps also the 
teeth. It possesses many valuable 
qualities, and the amount fitted for in- 
dividuals must be found by experience. 
The excessive use of sugar, say to the 
extent of a pound a day, tends to pro- 
duce giddiness ; which may, however, 
arise from the large amount of carbonic 
acid evolved during its decomposition. 
It is largely employed in pharmaceu- 
tical preparations ; for fermentation ; 
for confectionery, sweet-meats, etc., etc. 

The amount of sugar consumed in 
the United States during the year 1859 
was 431,184 tons, or about SO lbs. per 
head. The average increase of its use 
during the decade ending 3 1st Dec. 
1859, was 6§ per cent, per annum, 
which would give in round numbers 
990.000 tons, or nearly 50 lbs. per head 
as the amount consumed in 1869. 

The amount consumed in Great Bri- 
tain in 1869 was 586,954 tons, or an 
average of 43 lbs. per annum for each 
individual ; while in Russia the yearly 
consumption does not exceed 3 or 4 lbs, 
per head. 




THE Scientific American of July 30, 
1870, contains an article which be- 
gins as follows : '* Some months since, 
a controversy arose between some of 
our correspondents in regard to the as- 
similation of mineral matter in the ani- 
mal economy. l?he discussion was not 
a very satisfactory one, as it was con- 
ducted by those who evidently had not 
given that attention to physiological 
and chemical facts demanded by the 
nature of the subject." In plain Eng- 
lish, this means that the Scientific Amer* 
ican published some twaddle about 
assimilation from men who knew noth- 
ing about it. 

From an article entitled ^' Our 
Bread," published in Oood Health for 
October, 1869, a paragraph is quoted, 
and also the principal points which Prof. 
Horsford brings to bear against it, in 
an article published in Oood Health 
for June, 1870, and then the reply of 
the writer, published in Oood Health 
for July, is completely annihilated in 
the following scientific manner : — 

^' How any one at all acquainted with 
the chemistry of cereal food, or with 
the physiology of assimilation, can dis- 
pute these plain facts, — for undeniable 
fa^ they are, — passes our compre- 
hension. Nevertheless, a man who at 
least pretends to knowledge of both 
physiology and chemistry (with how 
much reason will be seen further on), 
has been bold enough to deny that they 
are facts." 

The ^^ reasons further on" are as 
follows : — 

" This (Prof. Horsford's article) was 
replied to by Dr. Carl Both, in the July 
number of the magazine referred to. 
His assumption of knowledge is quite 
astounding. Dr. Both appears to have 
grasped the secret of life. To him, 
all that has been mysterious to the pro- 
foundest physiologist, hitherto, has been 
unveiled, and he hurls this astounding 
discovery forth without even the minu- 
test note of preparation. Well may 
tiie scientific world stand thunderstruck 
at the fact that he has found, out the 
mystery of mysteries, — what is life. 

*^ He does not deal in glittering gener- 
alities. He does not tell us, like Cole- 
ridge, that life is * unity in multeity,' 
but, in his first sentence, he utterly 
overwhehns us witii the foUowing defi- 
nition : 

" * The chemical combinations, ex- 
changes, and reactions of the fourteen 
elementary minerals composing the hn- 
man body in connection with warmth, 
light, electricity, galvanism, and mag- 
netism, constitute what we call life.' 

'^ There is nothing doubtful abont 
this. The Doctor evidently thinks that 
a ^ wayfaring man, though a fool, may 
not err therein.' ' 

"But will the Doctor, whose pro- 
found erudition we greatly admire, do 
us the favor, by the aid of this defini- 
tion, to draw a boundary line between 
things living and things lifeless. Of 
course lie should be able to determine 
the precise time when life ceases, since 
then — to do full logical justice to his 
definition — some one or more of the 
elements of life ought to cease in the 
animal organization. 

** We are willing to wager the Doctor 
will say, if he does us the favor to re- 
spond, that it is galvanism or magnet- 
ism, since, from some subsequent re- 
marks, we are inclined to believe he 
makes the use of these agents a marked 
feature of his practice. Surely, it can- 
not be chemical action, or heat, or light, 
which ceases at death. It must then be 
electricity, or galvanism, or magnetism, 
since, in the Doctor's philosophy, these 
appear to be distinct forces. We are 
anxious to obtain more light upon this 
theory of life, which, however, is 
rather too dogmatically enunciated for 
a mere theory. 

"Dr. Both commences by a point- 
blank denial of fact^ stated by Prof. 
Horsford, quoting only as authority for 
such denial a single writer on thera- 
peutics, whose name, we venture to 
say, not one medical man in a hundred, 
in this country, has ever heard men- 
tioned. But what he lacks in authority 
he makes up in assumption, as he de- 
nies in toto the very general belief, 



ftmong physicians, that iron is a useful 
remedy in cases of the impoyerishment 
of the blood, and chafges this belief 
upon their ' credulity and imagination/ 

^^ He, bowerer, gives us his opinion 
of the office which iron performs in the 
blood, namely, that it ^ serves princi- 
pally as a necessary body for the pro- 
duction of animal magnetism, and that 
it appears as metal, or perhaps as oxide, 
but, probably, in a form as yet entirely 

'* Now we confess to never having 
beard of Dr. Both until his name ap- 
peared as the author of the article un- 
der consideration, but we are satisfied 
that he is one of the ' Universal Rem- 
edy ' school of practitioners, and we 
would be willing to risk something that 
animal magnetism is his hobby. It is 
these hobby-ridden and hobby-riding 
medical men who daim to have got 
deeper into science than any others, 
and who are always ready to frame 
theories which have no basis in fact. 

^^ But the Doctor at length makes an 
admission which seems to us a surren- 
der of his position. The laws which 
control assimilation are admittedly the 
same for all warm-blooded animals* 
Bat Dr. Both admits that fowls take 
lime into their stomachs to form the 
shells of their eggs. Now, if foetal 
gTO¥rth, from the earliest period, be 
not a process of assimilation, will Dr. 
Both tell us what it is? If not assimi- 
lation, it must be mechanical accumu- 
lation, and we hardly think any man 
can be found so bold as to claim that 
the shells of eggs are mere mechanical 
deposits of the raw material. 

*^ Dr. Both does not deny that it is 
assimilation, but he does deny that, be- 
eause the fowl can digest lime, the lion, 
or the cow, or the human organism ccm 
do the same. In doing this, however, 
be makes the statement that ' lime 
serves a similar purpose in the body of 
the fowl that salt does in the human 
body,' which is certainly an acknowl- 
edgment that the human economy can 
directly assimilate mineral matter con- 
tained in common salt. Thus, the 
whole question of the assimilation of 
mineral matter, and the determination 
of how many and what kinds of such 

voi^ XI.— la 

matter, can be assimilated, stands just 
where it did before this discussion." 

It would seem that the physiology 
of assimilation with the Scientific 
American^ is pretty well settled with 
"•undeniable facts." We confess to 
having been under the impression that 
very little is positively known about it ; 
and that the whole scientific world 
was busily engaged on this subject, 
with the intent to produce " undeniable 
facts," which are very difficult to obtain. 
Already the attempt of such investiga- 
tion " pcuses our comprehension " ! 
Surely the range of that comprehen- 
sion must he very large I The knowledge 
of the writer, however, is ^^ astounding y* 
and the "scientific world (of which 
our critic is the mouthpiece and ex- 
ponent) stands thunderstruck without 
the minutest note of preparation"! 
We confess that we are somewhat 
surprised and astonished that the 
Scientific American should be as- 
tounded with statements, the knowledge 
of the accuracy of which was acquired 
more than twenty years ago. If the 
^^ parsed comprehension" will take the 
trouble to read the various papers of 
the writer as published in Oood Healthy 
he will doubtless find much more of an 
equally astounding character. In the 
December number of Oood Health he 
will find an article entitled " Cells and 
THEm LiFR," from which he might pos- 
sibly gain some idea of what life is ; of 
the boundary line between organic and 
inorganic "things"; that ^^ lifeless 
things" do not exist anywhere except 
in short comprehensions ; and that he 
has already lost his wager by, at least, 
one sun-distance. 

We are informed by our worthy 
critic that " Oesterlen," as an authority, 
is not known to one in a hundred of 
medical men. He must, we think, be 
very unfortunate in his medical ac- 
quaintance ; — an ignorant uneducated 
class of men, whose patients we greatly 
pity; Oesterlen being acknowledged 
as one of the most reliable authors on 
the globe, and absolutely indispensable 
to any practising physician who, in the 
least degree, cares for reliable infor- 
mation upon therapeutics. 

The learned critic next confesses to 



having never heard of the writer until 
July 1870 ; but is perfectly *' satisfied 
that he is one of the *• Univenal Remedy ' 
school of practitioners." Short of com- 
prehension, he is no less short of 
memory and of information. For had 
his memory been long enough to have 
reached as far back as the 25th of April, 
1868, he would know that in the 
Scientific Afnerican of that date, a 
lengthy notice was published of a 
small pamphlet by the writer, who, to 
scientific men in Europe, has for some 
time been known, as well as in this 
country. It strikes us as being very 
reprehensible, evidence in itself of loose- 
ness, recklessness, and irresponsibility, 
when great men do not know what 
is published in their own journals. 
The "Universal Remedy" acliool is 
something entirely new, — it must have 
its location somewhere in Alaska, or in 
some of the unknown parts of Asia or 
Australia, or possibly in some undis- 
covered part of New York City. The 
learned critic is willing to risk some- 
thing that magnetism is my hobby. It 
is lucky for him that he did not risk 

We confess to having a hobby ; but 
are somewhat afraid that our unknown 
friend, with all his prodigious literaty 
acquisitions and tinlimited comprehen- 
sion, will be again "thunderstruck," 
should we divulge it. « At any rate, we 
are sure that he will ignore it with jus- 
tifiable contempt. Some years since sev- 
eral self-conceited lunatics in that bar- 
barous country caUed Oermany , the most 
insane of whom is a " hobby-ridden, 
hobby-riding medical " fool by the name 
of Rudolph Virchow, now Professor in 
a village called Berlin, situated in the 
State of Prussia on a little river called, 
the Spree, somewhere in the middle and 
northern part of a peninsula called 
Europe, undertook to "astound" the 
wise men of the widest comprehension, 
and thunderstrike all their most " un- 
deniable facts," by the publication of a 
system of nonsense called the cellular 


happened, that for lack of better advice, 
and in the absence of more renowned 
institutions of medical science, we were 
induced to become a pupil of this crazy 

professor, with the view of mastering 
his hobby. Aj^ simply because we 
knew no better, we introduced this non- 
sense into America in 1857, at a time 
when no one here he^ ever heard of 
or knew anything about it. And fur- 
ther, we became so "hobby-ridden," 
that we introduced this nonsense into 
actual practice; and confess to have 
been " hobby-riding " the medical pro- 
fession with it ever since. We believe 
that some poor simple-minded medical 
men have really accepted the theory, 
although they have not been able as yet 
to introduce it into practice. It is my 
hohhy to demonstrate this theoretical 
hobby in pathology, and in actual daily 
practice. The magnetian which we em- 
ploy is what some folks call brains, and 
is not very much liked by some men. 
As to assimilation, if my nameless 
friend will take an advice, it might be 
as well for him to wait a little, to see 
if Professor Horsford has anything fur- 
ther to say. It is generally understood 
that Professor Horsford is quite capable 
of settling matters without the assists 
ance of such eminent aid. Should tiie 
Scientific American^ however, find it 
necessary to come to the aid of Pro- 
fessor Horsford on thb subject, it 
would be most desirable that the editors 
would consult men who prophecy less, 
and comprehend more than my name- 
less friend, (say Dalton, or Flint, or 
some well-known chemist,) because it 
is necessary to comprehend the differ- 
ence between absorption and assimilar 
tion, and to have a wide comprehension 
of a good many other things. We 
would also suggest that a little gentle- 
manly courtesy would well befit the 
nothingness of an editorial without 
point. For mental improvement we 
reccommend for perusal an argument 
againt Professor Horsford in an edlir 
orial of the Hudson (Mass.) Pioneer 
of June 4th, 1870. 

Upon general talk of some unknown 
prodigy, and from the ^^ astounding" 
fact Uiat the writers of the Seien^ 
American appear to have been taking 
a Rip Van Winkle sleep for the last 
twenty-five years, and, therefore, not 
only unacquainted with the investiga- 
tions of science during this period, bat 



with what has been more recenUy 
pabh'shed in their own columns, we 
have no fartb^ time to spare. It 
would be a pitj to waste ink, simply te 
show that the ScierUific American often 
appears as an Unscientific American. 
If ^^ the whole question of the assimila- 
tion of mineral matter stands just 
where it did before this discussion/' it 
stands exactly as stated in the October 
niunber of Oood Health : — ^In no way 

con we introduce into the human sys- 
temfor assimilation, phosphorus, phos- 
phoric acid, sulphur, iron, or any other 
mineral in an inorganic form. But if 
the Scientific American can assimilate 
this little ^^ favor" in its colunms as 
easily as it can absorb it from Oood 
Healthy the first point will have been 
made against as. 

Carl Both. 


WHO has not witnessed the des- 
pair of a young mother at the 
constant wasting sickness of her first 
child, she knows not why, for, though 
highly intelligent, and even accom- 
plished, she has never learned how to 
rear a baby ; and if the educated rich 
are ignorant on this subject, how much 
more so are the ignorant poor ! 

Education is happily becoming more 
practical every day ; but it is a melan- 
choly fact that, even now in this en- 
lightened century, the first baby is often 
the object of its mother's first lessons 
ii the art of rearing children. It is 
the corpus vile on which the experi- 
mentum is performed, and the future 
children reap the benefit. But surely 
the first-bom, should he survive, might 
legally recover damages from his grand- 
mother for causing him so much bodily 
torture, by neglecting the early educa- 
tion of his mother in this important 
particular: we commend this remark 
to the consideration of first-born babies. 
Ladies may now obtain degrees at Uni- 
versities a^er the most stringent exam- 
ination in Greek and Latin, arithmetic, 
anatomy, and physiology. No doubt 
digestion forms a part of the latter sub- 
ject ; but baby digestion is too trivial 
a matter even for ladies to be examined 
upon. *' To teach young girls how not 
to destroy their future children, is surely 
as important as to teach them much of 
what is now considered essential for 
them to know. Girls should be practi- 
cally taught how to fulfil their practical 
dnties to their family and to society." 

The importance to the State of rear- 
ing healthy children cannot be over- 

estimated, for, other things being equal, 
the prosperity of a State is in direct 
proportion to the standard of health of 
its population ; and it is during infancy 
and childhood that those diseases of 
neglect occur, which cause either the 
death of the child, or some permanent 
deformity rendering it through life a 
weakly member of the community, de- 
pendent on others for support, or which 
leave it with a delicacy of constitution 
which may terminate in consumption in 
later life, perhaps after the constitu- 
tional weakness has been communicated 
to a second generation. 

There seems to be a very general be- 
lief in the existence of an intuitive fac- 
ulty for rearing children. People have 
an impression that as the lower animals 
require no special instruction how to 
rear their young, so human mothers are 
in this respect equaUy well guided by 
instinct. The real truth is, however, 
that the lower animals are, as a rule, 
bom in a much more independent state 
than human infants^ and require very 
little attention; besides, their parents 
only possess sufficient intelligence to 
supply them with their natural food. 
Wild animals, happily for their ofi*- 
spring, have not the power of pounding 
up all conceivable vegetable and animal 
substances into attractive paps where- 
with to feed their young. They have 
never been taught by family tradition 
the iounense importance of greeting 
them, on their first appearance, with a 
jorum of sugar and butter ; and yet 
their young survive 1 

We may very instructively contrast 
the higher orders of animals with man, 



by which we arrive at the general fact 
that in proportion as animals are more 
intelligent, and in this respect approach 
more nearly to the human kind, so are 
their young more intimately and for a 
longer time dependent upon maternal 
affection and solicitude. The joys of 
parental love are not denied to the 
higher animals, but seem only to exist 
for the preservation of the successive 
generations, and to secure the exact 
imitation of the parent by the young. 
Thus we may in birds observe a re- 
markable degree of parental care and 
affection ; indeed, there is no more 
touching spectacle than to watch the 
bird toUing all day long to supply its 
helpless young with food, and in their 
greater maturity exercising every art to 
entice them to try their yet feeble wings 
and encourage them to bolder flights. 
Birds are in this respect far more highly 
endowed than other animals which like 
them are oviparous, many of whom 
never see their young, but even in birds 
all parental influence ceases very soon 
after their young quit the nest. The 
degree of maturity to which young 
birds arrive before they escape from 
their shelly prisons, varies much in the 
different varieties : thus the young of 
ground-birds and water-fowl, being 
much exposed to the attacks of ene- 
mies, are hatched in a state of very 
considerable perfection. Young par- 
tridges may often be seen to run with 
the shell still clinging to their backs. 
Air birds, on the other hand, which 
build their nests in comparative secu- 
rity in trees and on the sides of preci- 
pices, hatch their young in a very help- 
less condition. 

The next and highest order of ani- 
mals, which suckle their young, enjoy 
in a still higher degree the pleasures of 
parental love, and from the distinguish- 
ing peculiarity of their class, a much 
longer subjection to maternal care and 
control is entailed upon the offspring. 
We may readily see how a greater in- 
telligence must follow upon this longer 
intercourse between the mother and her 
young. True, we find as many degrees 
of helplessness in the young of these 
animals as among birds. Thus the 
young of ruminating animals, cows, 

deer, sheep, etc., who are more exposed 
to the attacks of enemies, and whose 
parents are less able to defend them, 
can run within a very few days of their 
birth ; while puppies and kittens, and 
many animals of their powerful and 
warlike order (the camivora), are bom 
blind and helpless, and wholly depend- 
ent upon the parents. Still, in all this 
class the young are soon left to their 
own resources, and all parental affec- 
tion is removed from them. 

But in the human species the time 
during which the infant is totally de- 
pendent upon the mother is extraordi- 
narily lengthened, and the youth of man 
is longer than the whole life of most 
animals. This long infancy and slow 
maturity are the sources of progress in 
the human race. Without this long 
inten-al for instruction we should be 
but wild animals, living by instinct, 
with no pleasure beyond that of exist- 
ence, no joy but in the gratification of 
our passions, without experience, with- 
out knowledge. We sometimes see an 
approach to this state of things among 
the offspring of our criminal population, 
whose children are early weaned from, 
or have never felt, the affection and 
control of parents, and run wild, guided 
only by their own instincts and their 
faculty of imitation. They grow up as 
irresponsible for the crimes they com- 
mit, and are as justly punished, as the 
tiger who makes his evening meal upon 
the most plump baby of a Hindoo vil- 

When we contend that the rearing 
of babies should be a matter for edu- 
cation, we would not hint that there 
are any hard-and-fast rules, the carry- 
ing out of which would render of sec- 
ondary importance the constant tender 
watching of the mother. Such rules, 
indeed, might largely apply for the wel- 
fare of the body, but who shall legislate 
for the mind? Health is "a sound 
mind in a sound body " ; we may feed 
the body by rule, but the culture of the 
infant mind rests in very great measure 
upon that delicate tact and discernment 
which, combined with love of children, 
is the peculiar gift of a woman, but 
varies infinitely in different mothers. 

The infant comes into the world per- 



feet in fonn bat powerless to act, with 
a mind as yet untaxed by thought, 
wakening to the thousand external im- 
pressions which shall hereafter sway it, 
yet possessing a bias inherited from the 
minted sentiments of many ancestors 
— a bias which should not be over- 
looked because it does not render itself 
at once apparent, but should be care- 
fully observed, in order that it may be 
softened, strengthened, or guided by a 
mother's gentle influence. No mother 
can be too thoughtful, too refined, too 
highly gifted with knowledge for this 
important task, for the effects of this 
earliest guidance are traceable through- 
out life. It is a matter of the com- 
monest knowledge how infinitely chil- 
dren vary, even from very early infancy, 
in temper ; they vary equally widely in 
nervous sensibility to all external im- 
pressions. A flea-bite, which will pass 
unnoticed by one infant, will send 
soother into a fever ; the irritation of 
the gums in the teething of one child 
will cause convulsions, while another 
will scarcely suffer at all. One infant 
will remain placid and still and pleased 
for hours — it is a good baby ; another 
will ch^e and fret if not constantly at- 
tended to — it is considered naughty; 
jet these are two definite degrees of 
fiensibility, which every mother should 
recognize and allow for, and every doc- 
\sx should know ; for the placid child 
may pass with little notice into a dan- 
gerous state of illness, while the irri- 
table infant is in a fever with a flea- 

Daring the first two or three weeks 
of infancy the baby is almost entirely 
in the hands of the nurse, and tliis good 
lady very often considers that the life 
of a child during the first twelve hours 
at least of its existence is entirely due 
to her untiring energy; for it is a 
remarkably conmion fact, — so common 
indeed that anyone of intelligence lower 
than hers would regard it as natural, — 
that the mother is unable to nurse her 
child for the first few hours of its ex- 
istence ; so the moment the doctor turns 
his back the buttered sugar is disposed 
of, while the water-gruel siumiers on 
the hearth or stove I 

Now, except in particular cases in 

which the advice of the doctor in at- 
tendance should always be obtained, 
the child does not require anything 
sooner, and can be given nothing more 
suitable to its earliest requirements, 
than that which it naturally derives 
from its mother. And ' provided the 
mother's health be good, and she be 
able to nurse her child, no other food 
whatever is necessary be/ore U is six or 
seven months old, But in order that 
this rule should hold good, it is neces- 
sary that the mother pay much atten- 
tion to her own health, have a well- 
ventilated room and plenty of nutritious 
and suitable food, otherwise neither she 
nor the child will get on well. It is 
for this reason often necessary for the 
poor partially to wean their infants 
before they are six months old. There 
is, however, another very unportant 
fact to be borne in mind, viz. : that the 
child does not require to be nursed 
every time it cries. 

During the first month an infant 
should be nursed every two hours; 
afterwards the interval should be grad- 
ually prolonged to three or four hours. 
Too frequent feeding is one of the 
commonest causes of illness (sickness 
and diarrhcea) in infants. It is of 
course important that the mother should 
get as many hours of uninterrupted 
rest at night as possible, and by giving 
the last meal late in the evening, and 
keeping to the same time, say eleven 
o'clock at night, the baby will sometimes 
get into the habit of resting contented 
for four or five hours, thereby recruit- 
ing its own digestive power, and allow- 
ing its mother time for a refreshing 
sleep. When maternal rest is impera- 
tive, the baby may be fed once during 
the night by the nurse with a little 
weak milk and water. 

Babies should be as soon as possible 
made to sleep in their cribs, instead of 
being lulled to rest in their mother's 
arms ; they will very readily get into 
the habit, and thus interfere less with 
other household duties — an important 
point with poor people. 

It very commonly happens that the 
mother is unable to nurse her child for 
six months ; sometimes not for three ; 
sometimes, but more rarely, not even 



for ODe. It IB of die utmost importance 
in these cases that the child should 
derive nourishment from its mother, 
either whoUj or in part, for as long a 
period as possible ; for if they are suck- 
led for even a week or a fortnight their 
chances of life are improved. When 
the mother is from any cause totally 
unable to continue to suckle her child 
before it is six weeks old, a wet-nurse 
should if possible be obtained, and 
should be most carefully selected by a 
medical man: one important point to 
be attended to in the selecti<m is that 
the child of the nurse be of the same 
age as the foster-child. There is, how- 
ever, a very grave moral question in- 
volved here : it too often happens that 
a woman who is attracted by the pros- 
pect of gain to go out as a wet-nurse, 
leaves her own child at home to be 
brought up by hand, or puts it out to 
be nursed by some person but little in- 
terested in its welfare, and the child 
dies. No conscientious person would 
therefore hire a nurse without satisfy- 
ing herself that she is not sacrificing 
the life of another chUd for that of her 
own. A strong and healthy woman, 
well supplied with proper food, might 
without difficulty supply both her own 
and her foster-child with sufficient 
nourishment. People are apt to em- 
ploy their nurses too lightly, without 
thinking of the injury they do to other 
infants, and even of the crime they 
encourage. Supposing that a nurse 
cannot be obtained, the child must of 
course be fed by hand. 

The four constituents of milk which 
render it sufficient for every require- 
ment of an infant are sugar^icream or 
fat, albuminous matter (casein or curd)^ 
and salts. Human milk and that of 
other animals contain these substances 
in various proportions, each variety 
being best adapted to the wants of the 
particular species. 

Cow's milk is heavier than human 
milk, for which it is most commonly 
used as a substitute ; it contains more 
albuminous matter, a larger proportion 
of salts, and is less sweet. In order 
to render this milk better adapted for 
the consumption of the human infant, 
it must be diluted with water and 

sweetened. The amount of dilation 
must vary with the age of the child : 
at first an equal part of water, or even 
a little more if the milk be very good ; 
indeed, until the child is a fortnight old, 
one part of milk to two of water with 
a little cream is the best mixture; 
after the child is a month or six weeks 
old, about a third part of water most 
be added, after three or four months a 
fourth part of water, and when the 
child is five or six months old the milk 
may be given undiluted. The infant 
should be raised in the nurse's arms 
while taking the botttle. It is a com- 
mon but improper practice for nurses 
and mothers to feed their childp^n 
while lying flat on their laps. 

The amount of milk or milk-and- 
water given at each meal must also 
vary with the age of the child — from 
six to eight tablespoonfuls, or even less, 
every two hours at first, gradually in- 
creasing to a small cupful every foor 
hours when the child is five or six 
months old. A small lump of loaf- 
sugar, or half a small teaspoonful of 
sugar of milk should be added to each 
bottle of milk to sweeten . it. Moist 
sugar should never be used for this 
purpose, on account of its liability to 
set up fermentation in the nulk, and 
thus cause it to disagree. Cow's milk 
curdles more firmly than human milk, 
and for this reason sometimes disagrees. 
To rectify this, lime water may bo 
substituted, either in part or altogether, 
for the water ; or carbonate of potash 
may be added, in the proportion of a 
grain to each ounce of the mil( : the 
former addition is most useful when 
the milk has a tendency to produce 
diarrhoea, the latter when the reverse 
is the case. By these means also a 
certain amount of acidity, not un- 
common in the milk of stall-fed cows, 
may be rectified. A small quantity of 
cream, one or two teaspoonfuls to the 
half-pint, is often a desirable addition. 

The milk should be warmed by hold- 
ing the bottle containing it in hot water. 
When, notwithstanding the above pre- 
cautions, it disagrees with the child, it 
should be boiled, by which means the 
proportion of curd is much diminished. 
It matters very little what feeding-bot- 



tie is used, so long as it drawn easily, 
and can without difficulty be kept per- 
fectly clean. It should be rinsed out 
with clean water every time it is used, 
some clean water should be drawn 
through the tube, and the mouthpiece 
cleaned, and the tube and cork placed 
in water until again wanted. The 
smallest drop of milk left in the bottle 
or tube turns sour, and will inevitably 
set up fermentation in any milk which 
is added to it, and make the child ilL 

But proper food is not the only thing 
which is essential to a child's health, 
if not to its life. Grood fresh air, abun- 
dance of light and warm clothing, are 
scarcely less so. The nursery, even 
for the smallest infant, should be the 
most cheerful room in the house, airy, 
well lighted, its walls hung with attrac- 
tive pictures. For the first two or three 
weeks before the infant can be said to 
have migrated into the nursery, the 
light must not be too glaring. The 
child should be washed all over with 
warm or tepid water at least once 
daUy. In summer-time it should be 
taken JIat in fine weather once or twice 
a day, after it is a fortnight old, at 
first for a short time only; in win- 
ter-time it should not be taken out 
until it is at least a month or six weeks 
old ; it should be carried by the nurse 
antil it is four or five months old ; by 
this means it is kept warmer, and, 
from frequent change of position, gets 
more exercise. After this age, how- 
ever, a carriage is to be preferred, well 
supplied with wraps, and with a hot- 
water bottle for the feet. The simple 
plan of carrying an infant is, perhaps, 
the best for all purposes* By the fre- 
quent change of position there is no 
chance of the limbs beopming cramped, 
while much exercise is secured to the 
back; but caution is necessary here, 
for some infants are particularly weak 
in the back, and must only be held in 
a sitting position for a very short time 
together. Others, again, especially 
when insufficiently or improperly fed, 
are apt to become deformed by the 
bending of their thigh and leg bones in 
the dhrections in which they are drawn 
by their own weight. These infants 
must be kept lying down much longer 

than others. Swiss nurses carry their 
children on pillows, to which they are 
bound down by suitable coverings: 
this must considerably interfere with 
those kicking arid jerking movements 
in which the youngest infants indulge, 
to their great delight and benefit. Ba- 
bies' heads should be carefully pro- 
tected from the direct rays of the sun 
— American babies at least. We have 
seen the babies of Eastern tribes calmly 
sleeping on their backs in baskets, one 
on each side of a donkey, with the mid- 
day sun pouring down upon their up- 
tmrned fac6s with a force which would 
inevitably kill outright or produce brain 
fever in a white-skinned American in- 
fant. Kafir women carry their babies 
in pouches behind their backs ; Indians, 
again, poise them upon one hip, where, 
when they are older, they hang on 
cross-legged, with scarcely any other 

It is of the utmost importance to 
keep children warm ; and the younger 
the child is, the more carefully must 
this rule be observed. Young infants 
have no means of keeping themselves 
warm, and are in this respect, as in 
others, wholly dependent upon those 
about them. It is a mistake commonly 
made by robust people, who say that 
children are made hardy by exposure 
to cold. Provided it be abundantly 
supplied with good fr^sh air, a child 
cannot be too carefully protected against 
chills and draughts. An apparently triv- 
ial discomfort, namely, coldness of the 
feet, should always be looked for and ob- 
viated ; for it often leads to much sufier- 
ing, particularly from uneasiness and 
cramps in the stomach. 

Babies should learn to exerdse and 
to /eeZ their limbs from a very early 
age : a good arrangement for this pur- 
pose is to have a soft rug on which they 
can lie, and kick about at pleasure. 

Ice. — London (England), with a 
population nearly thirteen times larger 
than that of Boston (Mass.), consumes 
only one half the quantity of ice ; but, 
as a consequence of this intensely hot 
season, is waking up to tlie necessity 
of utilizing the wintry cold products to 
balance the summer heat. 

0OOD Health: A Journal of Physical and Mental Ooltore. 


IT is quite impossible to exaggerate 
the importance of water in the econ- 
omy of the world, whether animate or 
inanimate. There is no earth without 
it ; there is no air without it ; there is 
no life, animal or vegetable, without it. 
It is everywhere present — on the earth, 
above the earth, within the earth. It is 
everywhere active— circulating through 
air and rock, wearing away the sea- 
cliff, filling up harbors and forming 
shoals, eating out passages through 
granite, suddenly appearing out of some 
caverns, suddenly lost in others — ob- 
tained by boring deep holes in dry rock, 
lost by boring the same holes deeper. 
Never stiU, never idle, it is always car- 
rying out, either in some matters of de- 
tail, or on the largest scale, the great 
work of nature, and helping to secure 
the eternal youth and freshness of cre- 

We speak of water just as every one 
is familiar with it, and with no special 
scientific reference. Fresh water, as it 
comes from the spring, deliciously cool, 
pure, and sparkling in one place — boil- 
ing hot and abounding with healing in- 
fluences at another ; salt water, as it 
exists in the ocean, and as occasionally 
it issues from the earth ; vapor of wa- 
ter, as it is carried up into the air, and 
is there invisible, or seen as mist or 
cloud, as circumstances and various in- 
fluences act upon it ; rain water, as it 
falls from the cloud and runs over the 
land, in brooks and rivers, to the sea, 
or collects in pools and lakes ; crystal- 
lized water, produced in the most deli- 
cate, beautiful, and varied forms in the 
upper air as snow, and thence sinking 
gently in fine flakes on the ground; 
solid water, or ice, as it forms rapidly 
in the air and fiills as hail, or as it col- 
lects and creeps down the sheltered 
mountain valley in the form of gla- 
ciers ; or, lastly, as it floats away, a 
vast island or berg, from polar land. 
In all these varied conditions it is still 
water — infinitely familiar, but not the 

less strange — infinitely useful, but little 
thought of. ^ 

Water is not, as the ancients re- 
garded it, an elementary or simple sub- 
stance, although in all its properties it 
acts so independently, and is so perma^ 
nent and universal, as fully to deserve 
and justify the importance that has al- 
ways been attributed to it. It is a 
compound of two gases ; but the com- 
position requires the direct action of 
electric force to bring it about, and no 
decomposition into the gases is ever 
eflected without corresponding electrical 
disturbance. Much of the mystery and 
many of the uses of water, in the ter- 
restrial economy, are involved in this 
necessity of electrical action to form or 
destroy it. 

The two gases — oxygen and hydro- 
gen — of which water is a compound, 
are very different from each at)ier in 
all their properties, having no tendency 
to mix,«and neither of them having any- 
thing in common with their joint prod- 
uct. The one is rather a heavy gas, 
everywhere present, and forming an 
essential part of the atmosphere, which, 
indeed, consists of this substance diluted 
with another gas, called nitrogen. Hy- 
drogen is the lightest substance known 
in nature. It is never found in a pure 
state, though so universally distributed 
in water ; and when it is obtained arti- 
ficially, its extreme lightness is its most 
remarkable pisoperty. Combined with 
carbon and nitrogen it is, however, ca- 
pable of producing results hardly more 
striking for their vast and endless va- 
riety than for their use to man in vari- 
ous arts and manufactures. 

The first mystery connected with wa- 
ter is its composition ; for it is no easy 
matter to understand how a certain 
quantity of one very common gas being 
mixed with the sam^ quantity of another 
gas, with which it has apparently noth- 
ing in common, should, on passing elec- 
tric sparks through the mixture, become 
converted into vapor, and condense im- 



mediatelj into a minute drop of fluid, 
apparently quite neutral, having neither 
taste nor odor, though the best known 
medium for convejing taste and odor 

r throughout nature. 
Difficult and slow as the composition 
of water is by human agency, it has 
gone on rapidly enough in nature to se- 
cure for us in this world an ample quan- 
tity everywhere. When first obtained 
in a pure state it appears capable of 
taking up and dissolving whatever it 
comes in contact with. Almost all 
known substances are to some extent 
soluble in it. Gold, silver, copper, lead, 
and iron, are all known to be contained 
in the sea. Already has it been proved 
that some ^ring water possesses<«n in- 
finitesimal quantity uof two elements at 
least not known or discovered elsewhere 
in our earth, but identified with corres- 
ponding substances in the sun's atmos- 
phere. The sea abounds with various 
kinds of solid matter, held in perfect 
solution, which certain minute animal 
and vegetable atoms are able to separate 
and exhibit in marvellously-beautiful 
plates of flint, or curious rounded habi- 
tations of limestone, thousands of which 
might be accumulated on the blunt point 
of a needle. This ufiiversal power of 
dissolving matter, and the facility with 
which it parts with one mineral to ob- 
tain another, is a second great mystery 
of the natural history of water. 

Unlike other substances in nature, 
water is presented to us, in many parts 
of the earth, under three very difierent 
mechanical conditions, so that there are 
' few families of the human race who 
are not more or less acquainted with 
the fluid water, the gaseous vapor of 
water-steam, and the solid water-ice. 
Difierences of temperature induce their 
differences of condition, but they exist 
even uuder all varieties of heat and 
cold. In |he air there is always va- 
por — more, no doubt, when the air is 
warm, but much even when it is coldest 
and driest ; for there is an atmosphere 
of vapor above us as real and as impor- 
tant as the atmosphere of mixed gases 
we call by that name. 

So there is, in all probability, solid 
snow in the higher part of the atmos- 
phere, forming those most delicate and 

exquisitely beautiful clouds, curling 
about in sweeps, br floating in the deep- 
est blue of the sky in the finest sum- 
mer weather. Certainly, snow falls on 
the lofly mountain-tops in all latitudes, 
and snow and ice can exist very easily, 
under diminished pressure, in the up- 
permost regions of our elastic air. So, 
also, even at the poles, fiuid water is 
to be found, and thus the three states 
may be familiar in all parts of the 
earth. Unlike most other substances, 
water does not expand with heat and 
contract with cold at all temperatures. 
On the contrary, there is a certain 
known temperature at which fresh wa- 
ter occupies the smallest space, and this 
is one very common throughout the 
temperate regions, and in almost all 
lands outside the tropics. Even within 
the tropics, where the country is motm- 
tainous, this temperature is oflen 
reached. From it, as a starting-point, 
water expands both when heated and 

It may seem a small thing that thfs 
should be a condition and a property 
of water i but such small things are 
the mysteries by which the well-being 
of the world is secured. The result 
is, in this case, beyond measure large 
and important. Were it not as we 
have described it, the water cooled 
down to become ice would be more 
compact, and therefore heavier, than 
fluid water. . 

But again, because water thus occu- 
pies a larger space as it turns into ice, 
as well as when it becomes heated be- 
yond a certain point, it follows that a 
change of temperature tends to split up 
and destroy all those rocks and stones 
that the water has penetrated. Thus, 
there is an incessant breaking up and 
wearing away of the earth's surface 
wherever water reaches; for change 
of temperature is incessant, and it mat- 
ters little whether the change is one 
w^ or the other. When it is consid- 
ered how readily, and to what an ex- 
tent, water finds its way into the sub- 
stance of all rocks and enters the earth, 
the vast importance of this operation 
constantly taking place at the surface 
will be recognized. 

Are we not, then, fully justified in 



pointing out this 01111908 property of 
water, by which it expands or occupies 
a larger space just before and during 
the operation of freezing, as one of the 
great mysteries of which we can see 
and calculate the useftd effects, though 
the cause is completely hidden from 
our knowledge ? 

The fact that, under all temperatures 
and conditions of water, a part of it 
rises into the air to form an atmos- 
phere of vapor, which varies in quan- 
tity according to the heat to which it is 
exposed, and which is carried through 
the air, changing into mist or cloud 
and dropping back to the earth in rain, 
is another wonderful and interesting 
fact, and a mystery that cannot easily 
be fathomed. Evaporation takes place 
from the surface of ice as well as from 
the tropical seas ; water is sucked up 
from dry earth, as well as from a pool ; 
and thus there is ever produced a 
change and a circulation which is of 
th^ greatest importance to the well-be- 
ing of the human race — and, indeed, 
of all creation. 

The water lifted into the air as va- 
por, being conveyed by the air to dis- 
tant places, is there exposed to new 
conditions. A large part of it then 
falls to the earth as rain, and enters.the 
thirsty soil. It passes down through 
dark caverns and narrow crevices into 
the hardest rock ; it traverses innumer- 
able channels, often concealed, but 
always leaving abundant traces of its 
progress. Occasionally it becomes ex- 
posed to a high temperature, under con- 
siderable pressure, and in this form is 
more than ever powerful and effica- 
cious. It bursts forth in springs, and 
returns to the sea only to run its course 
again in a never-ceasing circulation. 

The rocks through which the water 
passes never part with all their con- 
tents. When so perfectly dry as to 
yield no vapor on exposure to intense 
heat, they still contain water, so loiig 
as they remain solid, absolute decompo- 
sition and destruction being necessary 
to drive off the rest, which is either 
present in minute cavities, or forms an 
actual part of the' composition of the 
mineral. Deprived of this, the substance 
falls to powder and changes its nature. 

In the driest sandstones there will 
generally remain half a gallon of water 
in every cube foot (a block measuring 
a foot every way), while wet chalk con- 
tains no less than two gallons of water 
in the same space. Thus in a square 
of ground occupied by chalk measuring 
ten miles every way, if the whole is 
wet to a depth of 100 yards, the quan- 
tity of water contained in the rock 
would fill a reservoir of 6,000 acres to 
a depth of 10 feet. This quantity 
could, therefore, be sucked into the 
earth in a wet season over every such 
space, and the greater part removed by 
evaporation in drought. All rocks are 
affected greatly by weather, though few 
so completely as soft sandstone and 
limestone, sand and x^halk. 

The circulation of water through the 
earth is another of those mysteries re- 
vealed to us in the study of water. 
Water is the life of the earth, as blood 
is the life of man. From the great re- 
ceptacle, the ocean, where it is never 
still, but beats and pulsates with the 
semi-diurnal tide, becoming aerated and 
fitted for its great uses by the raging 
wind and the ceaseless current, it rises 
continually into the air, its. particles 
forming an essentild portion of that in- 
visible atmosphere which, while it sup- 
ports, at the same time conveys the 
vapor, carrying it towards those vast 
tracts of dry land where the proportion 
of water on the surface is comparatively 

Once arrived over the dry land, the 
vapor is converted into mist and cloud,, 
and a large part of it falls as rain. A * 
portion of this is re-evaporated ; some 
of it serves to quench the thirst of ev- 
ery leaf and root, as well as every 
mouth and skin, exposed to its influ- 
ence ; but .a large part of it ruus away 
on the surface, dancing along in the 
brook, ^^ sparkling out amoi^ the fern 
to bicker down a valley *' : — 

" Till last by Philip's farm I flow 
To join the brimming river; 
For men may come, and men may go, 
But I go on for ever." 

Back to the parent ocean the ever- 
running river conveys part of the water 
that has collected on the surface and 



has occupied distinct channels and wa- 
tercourses, while the remaiader, which 
has entered the earth, is n«t more idle. 
The earth and the rock are thirsty, as 
well as the leaf and the skin, and no 
inconsiderahle proportion of the rain- 
&11 absorbed into the earth at every 
poor, moves on its way, and performs 
its task far oat of sight, not so rapidly, 
but not less regularly, producing and 
keeping up a series of changes entirely 
dependent on this supply, and essential 
to healthy life upon the surface. 

Wonderful indeed is this last and 
greatest mystery of water. We speak 
of the grave as silent. We think of 
the ground and the rock as permanent, 
and almost as if they were eternal. 
We do not feel, but we may, and ought, 
to know, that all beneath as well as all 
around is changing, and that there is 
i^nndant life in what we vainly call 
dead matter. We see it not; but a 
circulation goes on in all nature, per- 
fectly consistent with apparent repose, 
and if we examine and carefully de- 
scribe conditions of the earth at one 
time, and repeat our examination after 
an interval, we may chance to find the 
same form with a different substance 
— the same material, but a new ar- 
rangement of parts. 

And in all these changes water is the 
chief agent. Heat and chemical action 

are powerful, but they act through and 
by means of wkter. Abstract water, 
if it is possible to do so in imagination, 
firom terrestrial agencies, and we may 
picture to ourselves some of the results ; 
but we shall see only a little way, be- 
cause the consequences would ramify 
and penetrate, indirectly, far beyond 
those limits we are able to trace. 

If we suppose water absent from the 
earth, the air would be without mist or 
cloud, and the full rays of the sun 
would fall directly on all terrestrial ob- 
jects exposed to the light of day. The 
great ocean would be a vast salt desert 
— the land a bare, naked mass of burnt 
rock: there would be no life, animal 
or vegetable, not the smallest animal- 
cule, not a lichen on the rock. The 
magnetic currents, now excited and set 
in action by every change produced in 
electric equilibrium, would cease to vi- 
vify and move the dry stones that would 
remain as a mere useless skeleton of 
the earth. 

There would indeed be no world, 
such as we know it, if there were no 
water with such pix)perties as those we 
are familiar with. All on this earth 
exists in a state of mntual^ependence ; 
but of all matter and all forms of mat- 
ter, none can compare in importanco 
with this wonderful compound. 


EXAMPLES of the intercommunication 
of ideas between animals of different 
races hare, it is believed, been very 
rarely recorded. The snbjoined one is from 
an eye-witness. An old mare, relieved 
from hard yfotk, in consequence of the in- 
firmities of declining jrears, was turned into 
a field in company with a cow and several 
heifers. The pasturage in this field being 
of very indifferent quality compared with 
the rich crop of grass and clover in the one 
adjoining, longing eyes were cast by the 
animals on the tempting food from which 
they were debarred, and many attempts 
made to b#bak through the intervening 
fence, which at some points was not in the 
best repair. One day the mare was ob- 
served to make a regular tour of inspection 
round the enclosure, evidently, as the sequel 
shows, to discover the most nivorable place 
for escape. Having ascertained this to her 
satisfaction, slie returned to. her compan- 

ions, and requested the cow's attention by 
tapping her gently on the shoulder, first 
with her hoof, and then with the head. The 
cow then followed her conductor to the 
invalided part of the fence, and the pair 
having, attentively surveyed it together, 
went back for the heifers, after which, the 
old mare setting the example, the rest fol- 
lowed her over the gap, and found them- 
selves niterally) "in clover.** It would 
not be difficult to translate the quadruped 
ideas and language here into our own 
tongue. First, we may suppose Ihe reflec- 
tion of the old lady to be something like 
this : " The vegetation in that field looks 
particularly rich and good ; it makes one's 
mouth water. I'll just go round and see if 
there's no way of getting in." Then, hav- 
ing discovered the suitable spot, — no self- 
ish desire to leap the fence unobserved, and 
feast, like Jack Homer, all in a corner by 
herself, but, " I'll go and tell the cow, and 



bring her to look at the place.** This done, 
the two consult together, and agree that '' it 
will do very nicely; but we mustn't leave 
these poor young things in the lurch ; they 
must share in the feast; let us go back for 
them." If these were not exactly the reason- 
ing processes that took place, the initiatory 
movements and final result lead us to con- 
clude that they must have been very 

In our school-days we made acquaintance 
with a Newfoundland dog, whose knowledge 
of the value of money and careful pro- 
vision for his fiiture wants, were familiar 
to a large circle of admirers and patrons. 
He belonged to a clothier, and the entrance 
to his master's place of business was furn- 
ished with a couple of doors, some six or 
eight feet distant from each other, the outer 
one always being open in the daytime. On 
a large mat between the two was his con- 
stant post; he rarely, if ever, was iU>8ent 
from it except for a few minutes at a time, 
when he went to supply himself with pro- 
visions at a baker's shop a few doors off, at 
the corner of the street. Many were the 
halfpence saved f^om marbles, barley- 
sugar, taffy, and even from our daily allow- 
ance for lunch, which we bestowed upon 
the great, sagacious-looking creature, for 
the pleasure of seeing him walk to the 
baker's, and lay out his money in a biscuit. 
Sometimes we were disappointed of our 
amusement, for, if not at Uie moment hun- 
gry, he would take the coin and hide it 
under his mat, where, according to school- 
boy report, h^ had a fabulous amount (for* 
a do|r) of coppers, and from which he ab- 
stracted a penny or a halfpenny at a time, 
according to the state of his appetite. He 
knew perfectly well the difference between 
the coins, and their relative value ; and that 
he was entitled to receive two wine-biscuits 
for the larger sum, and only one for the 
halfpenny. We have gi?en him a penny, 
and seen him enter the shop and permit the 
attendant damsel to take it out of his 
mouth, but, instead of accepting the two 
biscuits offered him, he stood still, looking 
gravely at her as if something were wrong. 
This behavior was intended to signify that 
he only wanted a single biscuit on that oc- 
casion,, and wished for the change out of 
his penny. Now and then he took a fancy 
for a French roll by way of variety; at 
such times he would ** make no sign," and 
preserve a fixed impenetrability of coun- 
tenance on the presentation, first, of the 
couple of biscuits, and then of a biscuit 
and a halfpenny ; then his desire was under^ 
stood. The people of the shop were, as 
may be supposed, accustomed to his ways, 
and able to interpret his mute expression ; 
and as anxious to please him as if he had 
been a <* regular customer " of the human 
species. After leaving school, I was told 
by more than one informant worthy of 
credit, that if you gave him a sixpence and 

accompanied him to the shop, he would 
receive the change, and then allow you to 
take it out of his mouth, satisfied with his 
two biscuits, and apparently quite conscious 
that so large a sum was never intended to 
be given him at one time. We never knew 
what became of the balance of his day's 
receipts, at bed-time, — whether his owner 
took care of it for him, and laid it out in 
new collars and mats as the old ones became 
worse for wear, or whether he slept upon 
it and guarded it It was almost impossi- 
ble that, unless gifted with an uncommonly 
elastic appetite, and a strict vegetarian to 
boot, his expenditure could have equalled 
his income. Poor old fellow ! he was not 
a handsome specimen of his race, but 
''handsome is that handsome does," says 
the old proverb; and his intelligence and 
amiability made him a general favorite with 
the hab%tui$ of the well-frequented thor- 
oughfare. He died long ago, and was 
properly honored by being stuffed and pre- 
served. How he would have been per- 
plexed, if he had survived to the days of the 
bronze coinage ; clever as he was, it would 
have been some little time, we suspect, be- 
fore he learned to distinguish between the 
old half^nny and the new penny, so nearly 
of a size, 

The following deliberate plan of retalia- 
tion, formed and carried out by a dog be- 
longing to himself, is related by one who 
was a witness of the whole proceeding. 
The dog had been assaulted and bitten by 
another much more powerful than himself, 
and thinking that, in such unequal odds. 
** discretion " was ** the better pan of valor," 
he took to his heels and ran home. For 
several days afterwards he was noticed to 
put himself on half rations, and lay by the 
remainder of his food. At the expiry of 
this period he sallied out, and in a short 
time returned with a few of his friends, be- 
fore whom he set his store of provisions, 
and begged them to make a good dinner. 
This being despatched, the guests took their 
leave, along with their entertainer, and fol- 
lowed by the dog's master, whose curiosity 
was excited. He watched their progress 
for a considerable distance, when a large 
dog marked out, by the leader, to his com- 
panions, as the offender, was furiously at- 
tacked by Uiem all, and well worried before 
he could make his escape. The self-denial 
persevered in by this dog with a view to his 
revenge, and his knowledge of the efficacy 
of a bribe, are very remarkable; and be 
must have explained to his friends the ser- 
vice expected firom them in return for their 

That the fiaculty of memory %xists in an- 
imals, there are many proofs. Bees, ac- 
cording to Huber, who had been fed in the 
autumn with honey at a particular window, 
returned in expectant crowds to the same 
place in tlie spring, when the window, closed 
through the winter by an outer shutter, was 




reopened. The recogTiition of their own 
hives, ont of a number of others, on re- 
tnming from their excnrsions, wonld appear 
to be from a remembrance of its situation, 
rather than ftom any peculiarity about the 
individual hive. Swallows, on returning 
from their winter quarters in southern lat- 
itudes, resume possession of their former 
summer residences. A horse will almost 
always be found to preserve art acute rec- 
ollection of any spot where he has received 
a Mght, however many years may have 
since elapsed. We knew a pony in the 
neighborhood of Ripon, England, whose 
nervous system was, as a rule, in the best 
possible state ; but there was a certain ford 
which it never could be induced to cross, 
nor even to go within fifty yards. If you 
persisted in attempting to drive straight on, 
the invariable consequence was, that the 
creature suddenly whirled round as if it had 
been shot. It had once been startled there, 
years before, — it was thought, by the noise 
of a waterfall close by ; and the impression 
seemed fixed in its memory. No objection 
was made to any other ford, though one, 
which it had occasionally to cross, was 
much wider and f^lly as deep as the one in 
question. This said pony, by the way, had 
one or two very singular tastes, a great lik- 
ing for strong peppermint lozenges being the 
oddest; it would take them to any amount, 
and crunch them with unmistakable relish. 

We cannot just now call to mind where 
we met, long ago, with a very amusing ex- 
ample of memory in a horse, — the charger 
of the commanding officer of an Indian 
regiment. He was an exceedingly large 
aikl heavy man, and the horse having a dis- 
like to carrying such a burden, acquired the 
habit of lying down on the ground when- 
ever the colonel prepared to mount. This, 
as may be supposed, annoyed him, and, to 
avoid the ridicule of the soldiers, he parted 
with the animal, and procured another not 
so fastidious as to a few pounds more or 
less. We believe it was a year or two — 
certainly some considerable time — after 
that the colonel, ^iting another station, 
was invited to review the troops there, and 
a horse was placed at his service, which, on 
his attempting to mount, immediately lay 
down in full view of the assembled reg- 
iment. It turned out to be the identical 
dismissed charger, who had at once recog- 
nized bis former objectionable owner. 

A very interesting anecdote is related by 
Frederic Cuvier, showing not only great 
power of memory, but also strong attach- 
ment in an animal generally supposed to be 
destitute of all good qualities — the wolf. 
A gentleman had trained up one from in- 
Ikncy till he was as tractable as a dog, would 
follow him about whenever allowed, and 
become quite low-spirited when he was ab- 
sent. Being compelled to leave home, his 
master made him over to the Menagerie du 
Boi, where he at first drooped and refUsed 

to eat, but gradually became more recon- 
ciled to the situation. After the lapse of a 
year and a half his master returned home 
and paid him a visit The wolf knew his 
voice the moment he spoke, and flew to him 
with every demonstration of delight and af- 
fection, planting his fore-feet on his should- 
ers and licking his face. The same scene 
occurred after a second separation of three 
years' duration, the wolf, as before, at once 
recognizing his master's voice, and bound- 
ing towards him as soon as set at liberty by 
the keeper. A final parting followed, and 
from that time the £iithfhl creature never 
appeared to regain his former spirits and 
equable temper, occasionally indeed betray- 
ing ominous signs of the ferocity inherent 
in his race. 

Stories of elephantine intelligence are 
numerous, but most of them too well known 
to repeat here. One, however, recorded by 
a traveller, in a paper contributed to a sci- 
entific journal, and which is vouched for 
fh>m personal knowledge, is worth a brief 
notice. The author was on a journey, and 
several elephants were engaged to carry his 
tent and baggage. One* of them, eupho- 
niously named Fattra Mungul, coming on 
the scent of a tiger, was seized with a panic 
and ran off into the woods, the driver sav- 
ing himself by clinging to the branch of a 
tree and letting himself down. All attempts 
to recover the animal were fruitless, and 
the party proceeded on their way, giving up 
all idea of seeing him again. Amongst a 
herd of wild elephants entrapped eighteen 
months afterwards was found the runaway, 
who at first was as uproarious and unman- 
ageable as the rest ; but on an old hunter 
who knew him well riding up to him on a 
tame elephant, pulling him by the ear, and 
ordering him to lie down, he immediately 
obeyed the familiar word of command and 
became perfectly tractable. This writer 
also mentions a feipale elephant which es- 
caped from her owner and was at large for 
fourteen years. On being recaptured she 
remembered her former driver and instantly 
lay down at his order. 

Locke adduces the learning of tunes as 
proof that birds are gifted with memory. 
**It cannot," he says, "with any appear- 
ance of reason be supposed — much less 
proved — that birds, without sense and 
memory, can approach their notes nearer 
and nearer by degnrees to a tune played yes- 
terday, which, if they have no idea of it in 
their memory, is nowhere, nor can be a pat- 
tern for them to imitate, or which any re- 
peated essays can bring them nearer to. 
Since there is no reason why the sound of 
a pipe should leave traces in their brains, 
which not at first, but by their after endeav- 
ors, should produce the like sounds ; and why 
the sounds they make themelves should not 
make traces which they should follow as well 
as those of the pipe, is impossible to con- 



There ifl no question that many animals 
understand the measnrement of time. It is 
a well-known fact that, on lands where the 
crows are hahitually shot at, the birds, in- 
stead of keeping at a respectful distance, as 
on the rest of the week, come close up to 
the farm-houses on Sundays, having some- 
how found out that the guns are then 
shelved. We happened, when staying in 
Ross-shire with a friend, to meet with a 
pattern church-going dog. It was a year 
or two after the conflict in the Scotch Es- 
tablishment, which led to the foundation of 
the Free Church, and which, in the first 
heat of party, occasioned some unfortunate 
differences in family circles. It did not give 
one exactly an idea of unity to see husband 
and wife setting ofi* in opposite directions to 
their respective places of worship, even 
though there existed the most perfect har- 
mony of temper, as was the case in the 
household where I was temporarily located. 
But this by the way. I was going to ob- 
serve that even the animals had their spe- 
cial predilections, two of the three Skye 
terriers being Establishment dogs, and at- 
tending their nvister to the parish church ; 
the other we styled the Free Church dog, 
for he regularly attended the building lately 
erected for the secessionists, and where the 
lady of the house had her pew. The most 
amusing thing was that the little creature 

— the shaggiest, most intelligent-looking 
** Skye " I ever met with — always set off 
to church by himself, and punctually half 
an hour before the bell commenced to ring 
for service. The sight of him trotting lei- 
surely along the carriage-drive was quite suf- 
ficient information as to the time of day, 
without consulting the clock. On reaching 
the church, we always found him soberly 
settled in the pew, and he invariably con- 
ducted himself with the strictest propriety. 

Another specimen of clock-work regular- 
ity came under our notice in London, as 
exhibited in the person of a very large 
white tom-cat ; white, that is to say, he was 
intended to be by nature, and would have 
been anywhere else but in the heart of the 
city smoke. As it was, his coat was of a 
dingy grayish, yellowish, indescribable tint. 
This cat came up every morning at seven 
o*clock to awaken the inmates of the house ; 
mewing and scratching at one bed-room 
door till he received an answer, and 
then passing to another in the same way, 
till he had completed his round. He was 
very punctual, never being more than two 
or three minutes behind time. 

We hope that the illustrations which we 
have brought together — a few odt of many 
which could have been given — will inters 
est the reader. We must leave him to draw 
his own conclusions. 


THE British Medical Journal says : — 
** How true to nature, even to their 
most trivial details, almost every char- 
acter and every incident in the works of the 
great novelist whose dust has just been 
laid to rest, really were, is best known to 
those whose tastes . or whose duties led 
them to frequent the paths of life from 
which Dickens delighted to draw. But 
none, except medical men, can judge of the 
rare fidelity with which he followed the 
great Mother through the devious paths of 
disease and death. In reading * Oliver 
Twist* and *Dombey and Son,* or *The 
Chimes,' or even *No Thoroughfare,* the 
physician often felt tempted to say, * What 
a gain it would have been to physic if one 
so keen to observe and so facile to describe 
had devoted his powers to the medical art.* 
It must not be forgotten that his description 
of hectic (in * Oliver Twist *) has found its 
way into more than one standard work in 
both medicine and surgery.** 

Charles Dickens, as all writers about him 
have testified, was so endowed by Nature, 
that every utterance was sunny, every emo- 
tional opmion instinctively right. He com- 
municated to all he did, the delightful sense 
of ease with power. Prodigal as he was, he 
seemed ever to reserve more love and tender- 
ness than he gave. His vigor was sustained. 

as well as brilliant and daring. His mind, so 
marked in its self-respect and equal poise, 
was never weak on great occasions, as the 
judicial mind so often is. There was some- 
thing in the quality that led him to the 
right verdict, the appropriate word, the core 
of the heart of the question in hand. The 
air about him vibrated with his activity, and 
his surprisihjf vitality. In a difficulty men 
felt safe, merely because he was present. 
Most easily, among all thinkers it has been 
my fortune to know, was he master of 
every situation in whicn he placed himself. 
Not only because of the latent, conscious 
power that was in him, and the knightly 
cheerfulness which became the pure-minded 
servant of humanity who had used himself 
to victory ; but because he adopted always 
the old plain advice, and deliberated well 
before he acted with the vigor which was 
inseparable from any activity of his. 

The art with which Charles Dickens 
managed men and women was nearly all 
emotional. As in his books, he drew at 
will upon the tears of his readers : in his 
life he helped men with a spontaneous grace 
and sweetness which are indescribable. 
The deep, rich, cheery voice ; the brave and 
noble countenance ; the hand that had the 
fire of friendship in its grip — all played 
their part in comforting in a moment, the 



ereature who had come to Charlei Dickens 
for advice, fdr help, for sympathy. When 
he took a cause in hand, or a friend under 
his wing, people who knew him breathed in 
a placid sense of security. He had not 
only the cordial will to be of use wherever 
his services coidd be advantageously en- 
listed ; but he could see at a glance the ex- 
act thing he might do; and beyond the 
range of his conviction as to his own power, 
or the limit of proper asking or advancing, 
no power on earth could move him the 
breadth of a hair. 

Slow to adopt a cause, Charles Dickens 
was the first in the battle for it when he had 
espoused it. Dickens abhorred a sham 
whh his whole soul. When he published 
his '< Child*s History of England,*' the mass 
took it for granted that the chapters which 
were appearing in the columns of ** House- 
hold Words," were so much copy ; and that 
the writing of it for his own children was 
only a common, and to the world, warrant- 
able artistic fiction. Such fiction was not 
possible to the greatest fiction*writer of our 
century. I have his words before me, on 
this history : and the ink is yellowing finst. 

*' I am writing a little history of England 
for my bdy, which I will send you when it 
is printed for him, though your boys are too 
old to profit by it." 

When Ada, Lady Lovelace, was dying, 
and suffering the tortures of a slow internal 
disease, she expressed a craving to see 
Charles Dickens, and talk with him. He 
went to her, and found a mourning house. 
The lady was stretohed upon a couch, 
heroically enduring her agony. The ap- 
pearance of Dickens's earnest, sympathetic 
lace was immediato relief. She asked him 
whether the attendant had left a basin of ice, 
and a spoon. Shs had, ** Then give me 
some now and then, and don't notice me 
when I crush it between my teeth: it 
soothes nay pain : and we can talk.'* 

The womanly tenderness — the wholeness 
— with which Dickens would enter into the 
delicacies of such a situation — will rise 
instantly to the mind of all who knew him. 
That he was at the same moment the most 
careful of nurses, and the most sympathetic 
and sustaining of comforters, who can 

**Do you ever pnyr?" the poor lady 

** Every morning and every evening," was 
Dickens*s answer, in that rich voice which 
crowds happily can remember : but of which 
they can best understand idl the eloquence, 
who knew how simple and devout he was 
when he spoke of sacred things : of suffer- 
ing, of wrong, or of misfortune. His en- 
gaging manner when he came suddenly in 
contact with a sick friend, defies descrip- 
tion: but from his own narrative of his 
walk with my father, which he told me 
made his heart heavy, and was a gloomy 
task, it is easy for friends to undeistand 

the patience, solicitude, and kindly counsel, 
and designed humor with which he went 
through with it. My father was very ill; 
but under Dickens's thoughtful care he had 
rallied before they reached the Temple. 

"We strolled through the Temple," 
Dickens wrote me, '* on our way to a boat, 
and I have a lively recollection of him 
stamping about Elm Tree Court, with his 
hat in one hand, and the other pushing his 
hair back, laughing in his heartiest manner 
at a ridiculous remembrance we had in 
common, which I had presented in some 
exaggerated light, to divert him." Then 
again — of the same day — "The dinner 
party was a large one, and I did not sit 
near him at table. But he and I arranged 
before we went in to dinner that he was 
only to eat some simple dish that we agreed 
upon." Then : "We exchanged * God bless 
you,' and shook hands." And they never 
met again. 

To plaster a few of the ills which obtrude 
themselves unpleasantly upon the attention 
with checks handed to resounding cheers, 
is a kind of charity that is strongly spiced 
with selfishness. The sham of charity- 
dinner speakers and donors Dickens ab- 
horred. And in like manner, and with like 
vehemence, l)e detested slipshod assistance : 
cilreless, unreflecting giving. The last time 
I sat with him on a business occasion, was- 
at a Council meeting of the Guild of Lit- 
erature and Art. There had been an appli- 
cation from the wife of a literary brother. 
The wrecked man of letters was suffering 
from that which would never relax its hold 
upon him. But it could not be said that 
his misconduct had not brought on the blow. 
The firmness and delicacy with which Dick- 
ens sketehed the case to the Council ; pass- 
ing wholly over the cause, to get at once at 
the imploring fact upon which our hearts 
could not be closed, left in my mind a de- 
lightful sense of his abounding goodness. 
He spoke of the wife, and her heroic self- 
abandonment to her husband, through years 
which would have tried beyond endurance 
very many wives ; but he begged that the 
utmost might be done; and at the same 
time, he remained firmly just. What were 
the objects of the Fund as laid down in the 
rules ? Did the case come strictly within 
the limits of our mission? Friendship, 
sympathy apart, was it a proper and de- 
serving case? The points were argued 
with the greatest care ; and all the time an 
acute anxiety was upon the face of the 
chairman. When at length we saw our way 
to afford the help desired, Dickens's face 
brightened as he became busy with his min- 
utes and his books, and his secretary who 
was at hand ; and he remarked cheerily how 
glad he was we had seen our way to do 

Another occasion thrusts itself through a 
crowd o^ecoUections. Avery dear friend 
I of mine, and of many others to whom liter- 



atiire»is a staflT, had died. To say that his 
family had claims on Charles Dickens, is to 
say that they were promptly acknowledged, 
and satisfied with the grace and heartiness 
which double the gift, sweeten the bread, 
and warm the wine. I asked a connection 
of our dead friend whether he had seen the 
poor wife and children. 

'* Seen them I ** he answered, '* I was there 
to-day. They are remoyed into a charming 
cottage ; they hare ererything about them ; 
and, just think of this, when I burst into 
one of the parlors, in my eager survey of 
the new home, I saw a man in his shirt- 
sleeves, up some steps, hammering away 
lustily. He turned ; it was Charles Dick- 
ens, and he was hanging the pictures for 
the widow." 

Dickens was the soul of truth and man- 
liness, as well as kindness ; so that such a 
service as this came as naturally to him as 
help from his purse. 

There was that boy-element in Charles 
Dickens which has been so often remarked 
in men of genius, as to appear as almost in- 
separable itQm the highest gifts of nature. 
'* Why, we played a game of knock'em down 
only a week or two ago," a friend has re- 
marked to me, with brimming eyes. '* And 
he showed all the old astoiUshing energy 
and delight in taking aim at Aunt Sally." 

My own earliest recollections of Charles 
Dickens are of his gayest moods ; when the 
boy in him was exuberant, and leap-frog or 
rounders were not sports too young for the 
player who had written ^'Piclnrick" twenty 
years before. To watch him through an 
afternoon, by turns light and gfrave; gra- 
cious, and loving and familiar to the young ; 
apt and vigorous in council with the old ; 
ready for a frolic upon the lawn, as ready 
for a committee meeting in the library ; and 
then to catch his cheery good-night, and 
feel the hand that spoke so truly from the 
heart — was to *see Charles Dickens the 
man, the friend, the companion and the 
counsellor all at once. It wanted such a 
man as Sickens was in his life, to be such a 
writer as he was for the world. He drew 
beauties out of material that to the common 
eye was vulgar, unpromising stuff. 

That he found greater pleasure in select- 
ing and marking out figures where the traits 
were less smoothed or effaced by the varnish 
of polite society, than in picturing those of 
a world where the expression of individual 
characters become less marked, is true. 
To each man his own field. An essay could 
be recalled written to prove that Scott was 
a miserable creature, because his imagina- 
tion delighted in the legends and traditions 
of feudal times, with their lords and their 
retainers. And yet Scott gave us the fisher- 
folk in **The Antiquary," and Jeannie 
Deans. But though as ** a man of the peo- 
ple " Dickens loved to draw the people in 
all their varieties, and humor, and incom- 
plete ambitions, — and though he was by 

nature and experience a shrewd redresser 
of abuses, — tracing them back to their pri- 
mal causes, — he was in no respect the de- 
stroyer it was for awhile the whim of fools 
of quality, and the faded people who hang 
on Uieir skirts, to consider him. One who 
redresses grievances is not, therefore, an 
overthrower of thrones. The life and work 
of Dickens expressed a living protest against 
Disorder, — no matter what the Order. 

Signs of the end, and that he knew the 
end was at hand, are multiplied day by day ; 
and they are so many marks of the love of 
order, that was a ruling passion in Dickens 
firom beginning to end. That he had mis- 
givings, warnings, we cannot doubt; and 
these led him to prepare for the change. 
Only a few days before his death he trans- 
ferred the property of " All the Year 
Bound " to his eldest son, and formally re- 
signed its editorship. 

He was walking with a dear fHend of hia 
a few weeks ago, when this one said, speak- 
ing of Edwin Drood, — 

*' Well, you or we are approaching the 
mystery — " 

Dickens, who had been, and was at the 
moment — all vivacity — extinguished hia 
gayety, and fell into a long and silent rev- 
ery, from which he never broke during the 
remainder of the walk. Was he pondering 
another, and a deeper mystery, Uian any his 
brain could unravel, facile as its mastery was 
over the hearts and brains of his brethren? 

We can never know. 

It is certain, however, that the railway 
accident on the ninth of June, 1865, in 
which Dickens so nearly lost his life, made 
an ineradicable impression on him ; and Uiat 
when he referred to it, he would get up and 
describe it with extraordinary energy. He 
closed his last completed work with a refer- 
ence to it. **I remember with devout 
thankfulness that I can never be much 
nearer parting company with my readers 
forever than I was then, until there shall be 
written against my life the two words with 
which I have this day closed this book — 
Thb Ekd." 

Fmm an artkU by Blaitchabd Jebbold. 


Hope brightens every yonthftil scene, 
And crimsons every >ky; | 

It paints with beauty every cheek, 
And gladdens every eye. 

The lover's smiles, (he maiden's dreams. 
The heights of power and fiune, 

The valiant deeds of Aitare years, 
The honors of a name, 

Hope's wondrous presenoe all declare, 

And speak her maglo spell. 
To trance the sonl with visions bright. 

And daricsooM fef dispeL 

Good Health. 


On the Laws of Correct Living, 



ON the subject of Physical Culture 
very little is known by the people 
at large ; and what is known is far 
from being rightly appreciated. People 
in general take litde or no interest in 
any subject which more immediately 
concerns their health, until once they are 
conscious of having lost it, when they 
ate only too anxious for its recovery. 
That a very large number of the dis- 
orders of the human systen^ which 
afflict mankind are due to careless and 
culpable indifference, or to ignorance 
of the laws of life, there can be no 
question. Everywhere the physical 
laws of our being are violated, and the 
sufferings incident to such violation 
most likely charged to Providence, 
-while the sufferers, now anxious for 
restoration to health, but unwilling to 
follow the laws of nature and await 
her healing processes, resort to drugs, 
the patent and quack remedies which 
flood the land, and thereby not unfre- 
quently perpetuate their sufferings and 
materially shorten their lives ; in plain 
English, DRUG themselves to death. 

No one who has paid any attention 
to the subject of Physical Culture, can 
doubt that the right use of properly- 
regulated exercise must have a most 
beneficial influence, not only upon the 
due development of the human body, 
but as a sanitary measure in prevent- 
ing certain forms of disorder, and in 
many cases as a curative process. 

In a previous article, the theory of 
motion as applied to the mechanism of 
the human body, was dealt with, and 
the Application of certain principles to 
one of the simplest forms or modes of 
animal motion, namely, to walking, 
was spoken of. 

Walking ought to consist of a suc- 

cession of steps, not of leaps, which 
constitute running. Fair walking is 
generally called " toe and heel," and one 
foot should always be on the ground. 
The steps are taken as much as possi- 
ble from heel to heel, which part of the 
foot must touch the ground first, and be 
firmly dug into it. The ball and toe of 
the foot shonld not be on the ground for 
any perceptible space of time ; if they 
are dwelt on, the walker loses a certain 
amount of time in each stride, besides 
causing the knee to bend by bringing 
the weight of the body on the toes, 
which are unable to bear it. The lat- 
ter point is one of the great differences 
between running and walking ; in the 
former all the weight of the body is 
thrown on the toes and balls of the 
feet, and in the latter on the heels. 

At each stride the loin and hip cor- 
responding to the leg which is being put 
forward, should be twisted well round, 
the right loin and hip towards the left, 
and the left loin and hip towards the 
right. By this means the walker is^ 
enabled to put his feet down almost in 
a geometrical straight line, one in front 
of the other, and thereby gains addi- 
tional length of stride. As regards the 
upper part of the body, the arms must 
be kept well up and inclined outwards 
from the chest, with the elbows slightly 
bent, — since in fast walking the arms 
perform almost as important functions 
as the legs. Each arm niust be swung 
across the chest, and the shoulder well 
lifted at the same time in unison with 
each alternate stride. The object of 
this motion is to raise the weight of the 
body off the heels, and thereby enable 
the legs to take a quicker stride. Above 
all things the shoulders must be kept 
well back, the chest out, the whole body 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by Alexander MookEi ui tlie Office of tbQ 
YoUJI. — PL 6. Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



as upright as possible, and the knees 
perfectly straight. 

As an exercise for bringing into play 
all the muscles of the body, no single 
exercise can equal it, since in fast walk- 
ing, not only the muscles of the feet, 
legs, and loins are used, but those 
of the ribs, chest, shoulders, and also 
arms, while they work across the body. 
Nevenheless there are acts much more 
complex, and which require a more 
prolonged training than mere locomo- 

Many of these movements involve 
the simultaneous or successive action 
of various groups of muscles, and each 
of these groups must be trained to take 
its appropriate portion of duty. Many 
of them also require great speed in their 
performance, others again great force, 
and sometimes both are necessary, but 
it may be safely assumed that if such 
be the case, i. e. if both speed and force 
are necessary, the stage of training re- 
quisite for the due and proper per- 
formance of the action will become 
of necessity more important and more 
lengthy. Herein lies the difference be- 
tween the labor of a skilled mechanic 
and a raw apprentice. But, besides 
special training for special efforts, it is 
nowadays well recognized that, for the 
human body to attain its greatest beauty 
and its greatest power, it is necessary 
to train not one set of muscles, or even 
several sets, but all in turn, and it is 
on this account that gymnastics have 
of late years received the attention they 
have, not only as a means of physical 
or bodily education, but as a sanitary 
measure, and actually as a method of 
curing disease. Both of these subjects 
we shall consider in turn ; but we shall 
first speak of the preparatory process, 
or that of training. 

By all nations in a comparatively rude 
state of civilization, feats of strength 
are highly esteemed ; and among those 
which have attained a higher stage, 
strength, when combined with skiU, is 
still valued and respected. Among the 
ancients, both Greeks and Romans, 
games of strength and skill were fre- 
quent. But then, as now, to a candidate 
for popular favor a prolonged stage of 
training was necessary before he could 

hope to attain to eminence ; hence there 
arose a class of trainers for such exer- 
cises. Gradually the plan adopted by 
these men grew into a system, merely 
from experience, not from any scientific 
notions, and it is this system we have 
to examine. 

If a man se^^ about any unusual ex- 
ertion, say running a race, he will soon 
become painfully aware of the efforts 
required to keep up his circulation and 
his respiration ; his heart will thump 
against his side, and his breath come 
thick and fast ; whereas a man by his 
side may be going along as quietly and 
as easily as possible, but then he has 
been trained. We have shown how 
scientific mechanical principles may be 
brought to bear on human movements, 
how the muscles act on the bones as 
levers, how the muscles themselves 
may be likened to a steam engine. 
But to enable this engine to do its 
work, fuel is necessary, and this is 
supplied by the blood ; if, therefore, the 
engine is called upon to move faster 
than usual, more fuel will be necessary, 
and the blood will require to be driven 
more rapidly through its textures. But 
as the blood soon becomes fouled with 
the products of its combustion, it re- 
quires renewing, and air must be ad- 
mitted more rapidly into the lungs 
to carry off the foul gases produced. 
Hence increased muscular action vok- 
plies a more rapid circulation of the 
blood, and a more frequent breathing 
than are ordinarily required. This, 
then, is the scientific basis on which 
we have to proceed. 

Trainers of the olden times supposed 
they had to contend against a fearful 
and a concealed enemy which they 
called inward fat ; and it was to dis- 
lodge this formidable antagonist their 
efforts were chiefly directed. It was 
this, said they, which impeded respira- 
tion and circulation, which made a man 
puff and blow, and made his heart kick 
against his side. So far, no doubt, 
they were right, for fat will accumu- 
late internally as well as outwardly, 
and especially may the heart so be- 
come affected, although this is not the 
dread foe to human life about which 
medical men talk, for there is another 



fonn of fatty heart, where the very 
texture of the muscle of the heart is 
turned into fat, and there is so. little 
hope of training a man with such a 
heart to hecome an athlete, that the 
quieter he keeps himself the better for 
his life. Nevertheless, fat may accu- 
mulate, and so render the action of the 
heart less effective, but this is not the 
true explanation of the difficulty of 
breathing experienced by men suddenly 
called to unwonted exertions, for it oc- 
curs equally to fat men and to lean. 

Every one is familiar with the fact 
that a man's bodily conformation ma- 
terially depends on his employment; 
hence the strong sledge-hammer arm 
of the blacksmith, the horny hand of 
the shoemaker, and so of a variety of 
other occupations. For the human 
body is so constituted, that if any part 
is called upon for unusual exertion, this 
exertion implies more rapid change of 
the blood in its parts, as well as a more 
liberal supply of that all-necessary 
fluid, which in its turn insures increased 
growth and bulk of the part. Thus, 
therefore, in a healthy individual in- 
creased exertion implies increased bulk 
and increased capacity for exertion. 
This is the basis of the training sys- 
tem, and the basis applies equally to 
external and internal organs. If any 
of a man's muscles be suddenly and 
unexpectedly called upon to perform 
some duty to which they are not ac- 
customed, whether raising a heavy 
weight firom the ground, throwing it 
from one spot to another, running or 
leaping — in short, any unwonted ex- 
ertion — they will fail to perform it as 
satisfactorily as those which have been 
trained to their work. Further, the 
exertion will leave behind an uncomfort- 
able soreness, which may last a day or 
two, indicating that the parts have been 
strained in performing this novel duty ; 
but should the exertion be persevered 
in, the sense of soreness will become 
less and less tiU it entirely disappears ; 
the exertion required to perform the 
act will also be less and less, for the 
muscles wiU be strengthened by each 
new exertion, until finally they will 
perform their duty easily and satbfac- 

But what applies to the outer parts 
of the body also applies to the more 
internal, for the heart, whereby the 
blood is circulated, is a hollow muscle, 
and the principal forces whereby res- 
piration is effected are also muscular. 
Now, a man's heart and his respii:iitory 
muscles may be good enough for or- 
dinary purposes, he may have no diffi- 
culty of breathing, nor any incon- 
venience of circulation, and yet if any 
extraordinary exertion is required, 
both heart and lungs may fail to do 
their duty in their usual quiet and im- 
perceptible fashion. The cause of this 
will be readily intelligible from what 
we have already said — both the circu- 
latory and the respiratory apparatus re- 
quire training if they are to be called 
upon for any special efforts, just as with 
the more external muscles of the body. 

A proper system of training must 
accordingly be one which provides for 
the due exercise of all the muscles, 
voluntary, respiratory, and circulatory, 
but it should also imply a diet best 
suited for the development of the mus- 
cles, that is the formation of hard 
fiesh, not of fat, for fat is not only use- 
less, but injurious, from a trainer's 
point of view. Now, in the olden 
time, men Were fed on half-raw beef- 
steaks (biflecks sanglants, as the hor- 
rified French restaurateurs call them) 
with a small proportion of stale bread 
and certain vegetables. No beer or 
spirits of any kind were allowed. No 
doubt, in the main, this process was 
correct, for the meat would be the best 
thing to nourish the muscles, that is to 
say, to supply the waste of \\iQ engine ; 
but it is not the best thing for fuel, for 
some other article of diet should be 
used as well as bread and meat, other- 
wise the system is sure to suffer. 

Diet no doubt constitutes an import- 
ant portion of any system of training ; 
by it alone, bodily changes of consid- 
erable importance may be effected, but 
by it alone we cannot develop our mus- 
cles, or give the frame unusual power 
and endurance. For this, exercise is 
necessary. As we have again and 
again said, increased action implies 
increased waste, but also more speedy 
growth iks well as greater development,. 



whence its value in a system of train- 
ing. But exercise to do good should 
he systematized, and that nowadays 
has heen done, the system constituting 
what is called Gjrmnastics. We have 
said a system^ for gymnastics, except 
undertaken systematically, are useless. 
Furfher, we. have pointed out that gym- 
nastics should be employed for three 
special objects : as a means of edu- 
cating the body ; as a sanitary measure 
to prevent certain forms of disorder ; 
and as a means of cure in certain 
other forms. Then, again, according 
to the end in view, the character of the 
exercises should vary, and accordingly 
we have two systems to deal with, 
known respectively as liglit and heavy 

Exercise, although the fact is too 
oflen overlooked, is really one of the 
necessaries of life. Man has been 
condemned to earn his bread by the 
sweat of his brow, but in return his 
labor has been blessed to him, for 
thereby his body is strengthened, his 
happiness increased, and his life pro- 
longed. There are, no doubt, many 
employments inimical or injurious to 
health, but of the fundamental fact that 
exercise is good for the animal frame 
there cannot be a question. There are 
two great motives or inducements to ex- 
ertion ; these are, the necessity for eat- 
ing and the love of offspring, and of 
these two the former is undoubtedly 
the stronger ; but, as bearing on our 
subject, it is interesting to* note tljat 
where little or no exertion is necessary 
to procure sufficient food, just as where 
a supply large enough for ordinary 
wants cannot be obtained even with 
great exertion, the human race is of an 
inferior kind. It attains its maximum 
development where food is plentiful, 
but where it is necessary to work hard 
for it. Neither the negro, who can 
obtain a livelihood with scarcely any 
trouble, nor the Esquimaux, who can 
hardly procure one at all, can be com- 
pared in bodily or mental vigor with 
the American or the European. 

But in many occupations under our 
system of civilized or divided labor, 
certain ,parts .of the body are called 
into play to the exclusion of others ; 

and it should be the special functioo of 
gymnastics to remedy this tendency to 
unequal development. No one who, 
especially in our large towns, has had 
occasion to examine the chests of a 
number of individuals — a process the 
necessity for which in hospitals is pain- 
fully frequent — can have failed to be 
struck with the multitude of badly 
formed busts and undeveloped bodies 
which come before him. Now, for 
these, in many instances, a process of 
physical education would be their sal- 
vation. Unfortunately it is not always 
to be had, for skilled masters in this 
department are much rarer than in 
those which relate to mental growth. 

Then, again, with reference to an- 
other and perhaps a more interesting 
matter still, mammas constantly com- 
plain of the difficulty they have in get- 
ting their darlings to sit upright when 
they come to the age of fifteen or six- 
teen. Only the other day we were 
asked what should be done with a 
young lady who would not sit upright ; 
our reply was unhesitating — 'Let her 
have a course of light g3rmnastics.' 
Some of our fair readers may remem- 
ber their sufferings under the old sys- 
tem — not altogether, we are afraid, 
banished even now — of back-boards ; 
and bearing in mind their hours of 
penance in them, they may desire to 
avert such troubles from their daugh- 
ters : to these also, we say, " Substitute 
Gymnastics." Growth at the period 
of life of which we speak is remark- 
ably rapid both in boys and girls ; they 
shoot up and become tall and lanky, 
they want filling out, and are troubled 
with growing pains. Even men, when 
tall and thin, are seldom very erect, 
their muscles are too weak ; and there 
is only one way of overcoming thb weak- 
ness — by exercising them. Strength- 
en the muscles, and the drooping shoul- 
ders and semi-erect gait will disappear. 

Muscles are intended for interrupted, 
not continuous, action ; give them in- 
tervals of i*est, and they will go on act- 
ing, we had almost said forever. Bat, 
it may be objected, there 'is the heart, 
which you have told us is really a hol- 
low muscle ; were it to cease to act, 
we should die. No doubt this is true 



in one sense; were it permanently to 
cease to act, undoubtedly we should die, 
bat it is not continually contracting, it 
alternately contracts and expands,, ac- 
tion and repose succeed each other even 
in the case of the heart, and still more 
Bhould this be so with other muscles. 
To place a child upright against a 
straight board, or even on a music 
stool, without any support, is not to 
give the muscles free play, but rather 
to confine their effect to a rigid and un- 
yielding fixation of the body. Here it 
is all action and no repose for certain ' 
muscles, all repose and no action for 
others, and this is the very thing to be 
avoided, — uniform development, the 
result of uniform exertion, is that at 
which we should aim. 

One of the most serious features of 
life in the present age, is the rate at 
which men of action live in the great 
crowds which constitute our modern 
cities. The numerous inventions which 
have enabled us to vanquish time and 
q)ace, have entailed on us the necessity 
of Uviog fast, to use the word in its 
plain sense. He that would win the 
race of life must be at least as speedy 
as his fellow competitors. So much 
depends nowadays on education, both 
general and special, that parents are 
encouraged to force, as it were, the in- 
tellects of their children. A boy that 
is fond of hia books is favored over his 
roughier and hardier fellows, who prefer 
exercise in the open air to study ; per- 
haps in our modem civilization this is 
natural, but there can be no doubt that 
when carried to any great extent it is 
prejudicial. For a man to fight well 
the battle of life, nothing is more es- 
sential than a sound mind in a healthy 
body, but to insure a healthy body noth- 
ing is more needful than a due indul- 
gence in the healthy sports of childhood, 
* due proportion of bodily, as contra- 
distinguished from mental, exertion in 
boyhood and manhood. The fine 
physique of the English nation is no 
doubt to some extent due to their par- 
tiality for out-door sports, and doubt- 
less also the effect reacts on the cause. 
All this only serves to. illustrate our 
thesis, which is that education of the 
body is as necessary as education of 'the 

mind, and that the powers of the one 
should be cultivated alike with the pow- 
ers of the other. 

For of all these purposes gymnastics 
is the instrument we propose to era- 
ploy ; not gymnastics in the sense of 
such exploits as those of Blondin, 
Leotard, and the thousand-and-one 
nameless performers who alternately 
delight and horrify their eye-witnesses 
— we cannot call 'them audiences ^ 
but gymnastics in the. sense of a sys- 
tem of physical education. Now it is 
quite clear that the exercises which 
would be -calculated to fit a strong and 
hardy man for the boat race, would be 
altogether unsuited for a gentle and 
tender girl who had a tendency to 
stoop. Hence it is good to speak of 
light and heavy gymnastics, the former 
adapted for the vveaker class of learn- 
ers, the other for those of stronger 
frames and more mature years. Fur- 
ther, we may classify gymnastic ap- 
paratus into movable and fixed ; and 
we may deal with exercises specially 
intended to develop the upper parts of 
the body, and exercises specially in- 
tended to develop the lower limbs, as 
well as those which affect both. 

As already pointed out, every judi- 
cious series of exercises will imply a 
training of the organs of respiration 
and circulation. AValking and run- 
ning are those which perhaps most 
readily effect this, as they do not in- 
terfere with the upper limbs, and hence 
they are chiefly employed for improv- 
ing " the wind " as it is called, for 
when the arms are brought into play 
for any powerful effort, say pulling at 
or lifting a heavy weight, if there be 
great resistance, the looker-on will 
speedily observe the performer become 
redder and redder in the face till ho is 
almost purple. The reason of this is, 
that the muscles of his arms having 
proved insuflficient to effect the removal 
of the body causing the resistance, he 
has called a new set of muscles into 
play by fixing his chest, so that during 
these powerful efforts no breath can be 
taken. Consequently, as the blood is 
rapidly undergoing change in the rigid 
and contracted muscles, and as the 
heart continues to drive the blood thus 



fouled through all parts of the body, it 
not being aerated by passing through 
the closed lung, the surface darkens, 
and the bFood which shopld pass 
through the lung accumulates outsMe 
it, the two together producing the red- 
dening and darkening of the features. 
This is straining the lung, not exercis- 

ing it ; it is equally injurious to both 
lungs and heart, for both are alike 
strained, the lungs to resist, the heart 
to drive on, the blood current. Hence, 
for gymnastics of the lungs and heart, 
exercises which do not involve the up- 
per limbs should be selected. 


CONFECTIONEEY, ugh ! " says 
Fogie, as he opens the present 
number, " what is the use of bothering 
about sweets? Why not be useful, 
and let us first look into bread and. the 
necessaries of life ? In my opinion, the 
worse the sweets are, the better, as 
there would then be fewer squalling 
brats in the world ! " But it is in the 
interest of these children that we take 
up the subject, seeing that the child is 
father to the man, in a hygienic as well 
as in a psychological point of view. 
Then again, sweets are undoubted neo- 
.essaries of infantile life ; for what 
would the nursery be without those 
lollipops of tempting color and deli- 
cious flavor, at once so useful and so 
tronblesomo to the domestic authori- 
ties? How many times is the noisy 
and petulant youngster lulled to peace 
by the spreading out of a sweetmeat 
feast? But yet, when Uncle John 
comes to see Tommy, and tips him 
half a dollar, which is spent at the 
confectioner's shop within three days, 
think of the mother's anxiety, for she 
well knows that such visits invariably 
end in " the powders as before," and 
'' the castor oil in the morning." It is 
not to be denied that an overdose of 
pure sugar will itself cause some of the 
ills to which infantile flesh is heir ; but 
why is it that, after eating a few only 
of these beautifully color^ sweets, our 
child should always suffer the pangs of 
colic, although he often surreptitiously 
abstracts twice the quantity of loaf 
sugar from the cupboard, and is none 
the worse for it? The answer has al- 
ready been given by many authorities, 
to the eflect that there is no more 
unblushing and licensed poisoner in 
the world, than the unscrupulous man- 

ufacturer of cheap confectionery. It 
is a well recognized fact that it is pos- 
sible to produce colored sweets without 
employing any deleterious mineral in- 
gredients, but the cheapness and pig- 
mentary power of the latter are con- 
siderations which easily overcome the 
conscientious scruples of these gentle- 
men, ii* indeed they really possess a 
conscience at all in matters pertaining 
to their trade. We propose to take up 
the various' colors in the order of their 
popularity, and simply to classify them 
into six groups, namely* red, yellow, 
blue, brown, green, and white, without 
distinguishing them exactly by shades. 
Our results will be gathered from the 
examination of one hundred and five 
samples of various kinds of sweets, 
both cheap and dear, purchased at ran- 

1. Red colored Gonfectionery, — r We 
find that this color is the most popular 
of all, as, out of our one hundred and 
five samples, thirty-three were of a 
more or less roseate hue. In the eat- 
ing of this class of sweets, the con- 
sumer does not run so much danger, 
as the harmless red pigments are more 
useful to the confectioner than the poi- 
sonous ones, unless he desires to pro- 
duce a bright scarlet. In France, 
where the coloring of sweetmeats with 
poisonous matters is sternly discounte- 
nanced, lists are publishbd for the guid- 
ance of confectioners, and this exam- 
ple we propose to follow without going 
very deeply into minutias. 

Summary of red coloring Matters, 





And their varions lake* 

aad Other modifloationa. 


Red Lead, 
Reddic, etc., 
All mineral reda, 
Aoiline reds. 



Of the twenty-seven samples actu- 
aDj examined, one only was colored 
with lead, and three with vermilion, 
which is a preparation of mercury, 
and, consequently, very deleterious. 

If we followed our usual custom, we 
should now treat of some popular inodes 
of detecting the various red mineral 
pigments, but we intend to depart in 
the present case from this portion of 
the subject. Our reason for this is, 
that to give even the most popular in- 
structions, would involve suggesting the 
employments of acids and other corro- 
sive and disagreeable re-agents. Be- 
sides, all such investigations can only 
be carried out with reliability in a 
proper laboratory by trained persons, 
and to suggest to them what to do in 
such a matter would be a work of 
supererogation. We will, therefore, 
simply say, that a red colored sweet, 
dissolved in water, should not leave a 
scarlet tinted powder at the bottom of 
the glass. • 

2. Yellow colored Confectionery, — 
These sweets are worthy of our atten- 
tion, because they are only second to 
the reds in popularity, while they far 
exceed them in danger. A pure yel- 
low colored sweetmeat should be tinted 
with nothing but a vegetable coloring 
matter, such as turmeric ; gamboge be- 
ing, however, forbidden on account of 
its cathartic properties. 

The following is a summary of the 
yellow colorings : — 




French Berries. 

Penian Berries, 


Chrome Yellow (Lead Ohromate). 
Imitation " f Barium *♦ ). 
Naples " (Antimony Snlpnide). 
King'* " (Arsenic »* ), 

MasAlcot (Lead Oxide). 

Out of the one hundred and ^ve 
samples of sweets purchased, twenty- 
three were found to be colored yellow. 

Thirteen out of the whole twenty- 
three were actually poisonous, and con- 
tained lead in a most deleterious form. 
Some of the sweets were only colored 
on the surface, but all the lozenges 
and similar comfits were completely 
impregnated with the poison. 

We trust that it will not be consid- 
ered as travelling out of our province 
if we give, for the benefit of our sen- 
sation-loving readers, a short detail of 
the symptoms which might be,expected 
to appear in a person consuming a con- 
siderable portion of these treacherous 
lozenges. We take this from the 
mouth of a medical friend, who had 
seen a case in point, in which the suf- 
ferer had daily partaken of highly- 
colored ginger lozenges in large quan- 
tity, to allay flatulence, as he fancied. 
The commencement of the action of the 
poison manifests itself in sudden attacks 
of excruciating pains in the bowels, and 
other signs of what is known as paint- 
ers* colic. The patient becomes worn 
and thin, while tremblings of the hands 
and pains in the legs and feet follow. 
At last it becomes impossible to hold 
anything, or to stand without assist- 
ance, and a kind of paralysis sets in, 
characterized by what is called " wrbt 
drop." The patient is now a pitiable 
sight, with his hands hanging like in- 
animate masses of flesh at right angles 
to his arms, withont the power of rais- 
ing them; while a well defined blue 
line is visible all round his gums, and, 
if relief be not obtained, a miserable 
death soon follows. Such then is the 
risk to which we expose our children, 
in permitting the use of chromate of 
lead as a pigmentary matter in sweets. 
Many children are at this moment suf- 
fering the torments of this colic, and 
having their cries stilled by gifts, on 
the part of their tender though foolish 
mothers, of the very matter which is 
ruining their health, and embittering 
what should be the happiest portion of 
their existence I 

As to the detection of poisonous yel- 
low comfits, we will refer to our re- 
marks on the reds, and simply say to 
our readers that they ought not to per- 
mit the use of yellow comfits in their 
families at all ; but, if they do so, 
they must especially beware of those 
which, when dissolved in water, leave 
behind a distinct heavy bright yellow 
powder at the bottom of the glass. 

8. Blue colored Confectionery, — 
Twelve samples out of the one hun- 
dred and five were colored blue, so 



that ibis tint is evidently not so popular 
as the ones abeady considered. There 
is only one blue pigment which should 
be permitted to be used, and that is in- 
digo, whiTe the following is the list of 
colorings which ought to he 'prohibited : 
Ultramarine ; Blue Verditer ; Prussian 
Blue ; Cobalt Blue and Smalts ; and 
all modifications of these pigments. 

Out of twelve samples six were col- 
ored with deleterious pigments, which, 
although not as a whole so actually 
poisonous as the yellows, yet are still 
far from pleasant additions to our food. 

4. Brown colored Confectionery, — 
These sweets come next in popularity, 
as there were twelve brown samples. 
The color is usually produced by the 
use of some brown earthy matter 
containing iron, and is not as a rule 
very actively deleterious. However, 
it would be better to forbid the use of 
brown pigments altogether, and only 
permit this tint to be communicated to 
sweets by the use of chocolate, coffee, 
or some such matter. Of the twelve 
comfits examined, seven were so col- 
ored, the rest being principally tinted 
by umber. 

5. Oreen colored Confectionery, — 
This tint, although pretty and attract- 
ive, is evidently not popular, as only five 
of the one hundred and five samples 
were green. It would therefore seem 
that the great number of warnings 
which we have had, from time to time, 
as to the danger of such pigments, 
have caused the public to become shy 
of them. This has not been without 
good cause, seeing that nearly all the 
mineral greens contain copper, while 
the brightest one (Scheele's green), 
superadds the charms of arsenic to 
those of the former sufficiently danger- 
ous metallic poison. The only green 
permitted to be used should be a mix- 
ture of indigo and a vegetable yellow, 
such as turmeric. Sap green is also 
allowable when unadulterated by any 
mineral matter, which is, however, a 
very uncommon circumstance. The 
following greens ought to be strictly 
forbidden : Verdigris ; Scheele's Green 
(copper arsenite) ; Brunswick Green ; 
Zinc Green (zinc and cobalt). 

All the green confectionery was found 

to be colored with one or other of 
these poisonous ingredients. We there- 
fore counsel our readers to stick to 
their abhorrence of green sweets, and 
never, under any circumstances, to al- 
low such comfits to be used in their 

Having thus glanced at the principal 
classes of colored sweets in then- turn, 
we must now take a short survey of 
the uncolored. These were twenty- 
three in number, and consisted of sugar 
mingled with gum, starch, and sul- 
phate of lime, and flavored with va- 
rious essences. There was nothing 
actually poisonous found in any of 
them, but in some the proportion of 
lime was very large. Carraway com- 
fits are extensively adulterated, and 
also many of the peppermint lozenges. 
The bases of both these, coriander and 
almond comfits, are flour and terra 
alba ; afler the seeds are put into the 
pan, a little syrup is thrown over them, 
and that is dusted ovet with either 
flour, whiting, or plaster of Paris ; a 
strong coat is put upon them in this 
way, and then they are finished with a 
stronger and better syrup. Our anal- 
yses of the white samples, which want 
of space compels us to omit, bears out 
these statements. 

Another important matter is, the 
flavoring by artificial essences. The 
rapid strides with which the chemistry 
of the various hydro-carbons and their 
derivatives has advanced, has made it 
possible to imitate almost any fruit fla- 
voring. The artificial essences are for 
the most part ethereal salts, or, more 
popularly, compounds of an ether with 
some organic acid such as vinegar. 
As these compounds can be obtained 
in much greater quantity and at a much 
lower price than real fruit essences, 
their fise by the confectioner has now 
become almost universal. We are not 
aware that any real researches have 
been made as to the exact physiological 
action of these compound ethers, but 
we have seen it asserted that sweet- 
meats so flavored can produce drows- 
iness and stupor. We trust, however, 
to present our readers, at no very dis- 
tant date, with the results of a careful 
series of experiments on animals, now 




being condacted. Bat besides the in- 
nate danger which must exist in these 
substances when too freely employed, 
tfiereis superadded the peril of careless 
manufacture. The essence of bitter 
almonds is a good instance of this, as 
it almost invariably contains a large 
quantity of prussic acid ; and so well 
13 this known, that many persons desir- 
ous of commiting suicide or murder, 
and not being able to procure the pure 
acid, have availed themselves of the 
poisonous qualities of this essence, to 
effect their deadly intentions. It is of 
course seldom that 'a sufficient quantity 
of the essence is employed to produce 
death from eating almond flavored 
sweets ; but when we consider the ac- 
tivity of the poison, and the conse- 
quences which might follow careless 
and insufficient mixing, we see the risk 
which we daily run in the use of this 
flavoring. Among our samples there 
was one case in point. The sweets in 
question were "Shaped like large sugared 
almonds, but destitute of the usual in- 
terior, although the odor and taste 
were most powerful. They were found 
to be masses of sugar and sulphate of 
lime, slightly tinged on the surface 
with chrome yellow and red lead and 
very highly flavored with essence of 
bitter cdmonds. On dissolving and 
submitting them to distillation and the 
usual tests, such a decided trace of 
prussic acid was found, that there was 
nobody in the laboratory bold enough 
to try the effect of eating a dozen or 
two, for the sake of experimenting on 
their poisonous powers. We suspect 
this was a case of the essence not hav- 
ing be6n properly distributed through 
the whole pan of sweets. 

And now what do our readers say 
to the picture presented ? It has been 
in no way varnished up, nor has any 
attempt been made at sensation, as our 
collectors were boys sent out to buy 
what sweets they liked best, by which 
means we thought the confectionery 
most in demand by children would be 
procured. Admixtures which amount 
to nothing more than petty frauds on 
our pockets, sink into obscurity when 
placed side by side with the wholesale 
adulterations practbed on our infants. 

We have many strong-minded ladies 
now, who take a high interest in so- 
cial affisiirs, and to them we commend 
this subject. It is one which would at 
once be graceful, and more suited to 
their status in society, than some other 
matters which have lately engaged 
their attention. Who is a more natural 
protector of her children than a mother ? 
unless, indeed, like Mrs. JeUaby, she 
is too strong-minded and literary to 
attend to them. But we hope there 
are, after all, few Mrs. Jellaby's in the 
country ; and we therefore appeal with 
confidence to the ladies, to use their 
influence with the lords of creation, so 
that a law may be made to prevent 
their little ones being daily tempted to 
purchase and eat chromate of lead, 
vermilion, Brunswick green, and prus- 
sic acid. It may be argued that the 
minute quantity employed renders the 
pobons comparatively harmless ; but 
let us remember the small and delicate 
little organisms into which the bulk of 
the sweetstuff is intended to pass, as 
well as the fact that lead arsenic and 
most of the pigments used are cu- 
mulative poisons, which do not leave 
the system, but go on collecting force, 
as it were, for their fatal work from 
each replenishment. With the influ- 
ence of the ladies and mothers on our 
side, one of the great objects of this 
Journal cannot thus fail to be accom- 

From " Fbod Journal/* 

The American Dental Association 
who have thus far been heard from, 
agree in the assertion that plates made 
of rubber and worn in the mouth are 
injurious. Indeed, the&e plates are 
called " rubber " merely by courtesy, 
for they consist of thirty-six per centum 
of mercury, twenty-four per centum of 
sulphur, all the rubber in them being 
the remaining forty per centum. Most 
of the dentists agreed that unbolted 
flour should be eaten, especially by 
children, instead of the fine white flour 
generally used, as the parts of the 
wheat thrown away in the process of 
bolting are bone producing, and possess 
other valuable quojities. 




BT means of our eyes we gain a 
certain kind of knowledge of 
things at a distance, as well as imme- 
diately around us. Sight we are ac- 
customed to associate with the exist- 
ence of those organs. Where the latter 
are wanting, we conclude that the 
former, cbnsidered as a sensation, is 
absent. The world, we know, is dark 
to the blind ; but are. we justified in 
believing that, what is true of them in 
this respect, is equally true of all ani- 
mals lower in the scale of being? 
Where a special organ of sight is not 
developed, must we^infer that vision is 
impossible ? 

Some animals have no localized or- 
gan of digestion, but this process is 
carried on as well in one part of the 
body as another ; and the same is true, 
as we have seen, in regard to other 
functions. K we study the power of 
vision in the various classes of the ani- 
mal kingdom, we shall find that, like 
digestion, it becomes remarkably gen- 
eral in its nature. Some have eyes on 
the head alone ; others have them only 
on the hinder portions of the body ; in 
others they are limited to the head and 
thorax ; in others they extend from the 
head to the tail ; and in others they are 
entirely wanting, but the whole surface 
of the body appears to be sensitive to 

Man himself, in certain conditions, 
of his nervous system, resembles the 
lower animals in these respects, and 
acts independently of his usual organs 
of sight. 

We must not, however, infer that 
the degree of , development of the eye 
depends on zoological position entirely, 
and conclude that beings low in the 
scale necessarily have imperfect or in- 
distinct vision. The naturalist knows 
that structure and habit are intimately 
connected with one another, and that 
tjie wants of an animal are, as it were, 
photographed in itself. 

Sight gives us a knowledge of the 
color, form, size, and position of ob- 
jects ; yet animals, agreeing in the de- 
gree of development of their eyes, 

differ greatly, even when first introF 
duced into the world, in their power 
of perceiving those properties of mat- 
ter. The direct inheritance of the 
ability to use certain organs perfectly 
seems to depend on the early wants of 
animals. Each is adapted to the cir- 
cumstances in which it is placed. 

The chick and the young partridge, 
which inherit the faculty of walking, 
find their way through the most intri- 
cate paths, avoid obstacles, and run in 
a direct line to food that they have dis- 
covered, as soon as they leave the egg- 
shell. They show immediately a true 
appreciation of color, distance, and 
form of objects. Correct perception is 
inherited by them, just as the powers 
which a trained hunting-dog has ac- 
quired through instruction, are oden 
transmitted to his descendants. 

On the other hand, the infant, which, 
on account of its imperfect bodily de- 
velopment, needs tender care for many 
months, though born with a certain de- 
gree of ability to judge of its surround- 
ings by the aid of sight, evidently ob- 
tains most of its knowledge of the 
distance and size of objects through 
experience. In it the sense of touch 
is an important auxiliary in modifying 
or confirming the impressions made on 
the mind through the eyes. Every one 
has observed the disappointed look of 
infants when attempting to grasp some- 
thing far beyond their reach. Touch 
seems to be the first aid in this educa- 
tion of the eyes, but later, no doubt, a 
correct idea of the distance and size of 
an object is obtained by noticing the 
peculiarities of intervening objects, 
especially those depending on light and 
shade.; and possibly something maybe 
unconsciously inferred from the neces- 
sary adjustment of these organs ac- 
cording to distance. 

Some who have written on this sub- 
ject have contended that the power of 
judging of form, size, and so on, is in- 
stinctive or directly inherited by the 
new-bom child, though its actions 
seem to prove the contrary, because 
(his faculty is beyond dispute directly 




transmitted in many of the lower ani- 
mals. They cannot believe that what 
in one case is inborn, may be in another 
the result of education. 

No one, however, has contended that 
the infant is at first able to walk alone ; 
though generally carried for months in 
its mother's arms ; yet this would be a 
natural deduction if we followed the 
above mode of argument, for, as we 
all know, many animals have this 
power independently of training or ex- 

Objects appear differently to differ- 
ent persons. Not all see alike in the 
physical as well as in the moral world. 
There are many, and the number is 
greater than is generally supposed, 
whose eyes are more or less insensible 
to colors. Some recognize only black 
and white, and an indefinite number of 
intermediate gradations. The pleasure 
which we derive from the sight of the 
varied and contrasting tints of objects 
around us is denied to them. They 
live in a world of light and shade ; and 
even the creations of their imagination 
must conform to their experience. 

Some confound red with blue, brown 
with green, dark red with dark gray, 
and so on. In short, there is every 
degree of this lack of correct percep- 
tion to be met with ; and in the major- 
ity of cases it appears to be in no way 
connected with diseases of the organs 
of sight. 

Achromatopsy, as this insensibility of 
the eye to colors is called, sometimes 
runs in families, and becomes heredi- 
tary ; hence it is that often persons hav- 
ing this defect of vision become quite 
advanced in years before discovering 
it; those with whom they are most 
familiar seeing things always in the 
same light as they do. It is only when 
residing permanently away from their 
near relations, and finding themselves 
alone and unsustained in their judg- 
ment in regard to certain colors, that 
they begin to suspect that they have 
been living in a world, as it were, very 
much of their own making. 

Color-blindness may be temporarily 
caused by the action of certain drugs, 
or it may be induced by a disordered 
liver or stomach; and there is more 

truth than fiction in the common re- 
mark that the world appears sad and 
gloomy to one whose digestion is out 
of order. The dyspeptic, from physi- 
cal necessity, casts a shade over all 
things, and his evil generally begins 
not with his mind, but with his body. 
His ideas are colored by the glasses 
that he looks through, and it is folly 
for his friends to expect him to take 
more cheerful views of life. Imper- 
fectly assimilated food can produce 
and nourish only bodily and mental 

If we descend to the lowest forms, 
we find many infusoria which have 
neither eyes nor nei'ves, and yet it is 
easy to see that they are sensitive to 
light, for they either seek or avoid it. 

Since the perception of light does 
not always depend on the presence of 
eyes, may not the recognition of ob- 
jects be possible without the aid of or- 
gans capable of forming images of 

Among the lowest forms of life, 
where every vestige of an eye disap- 
pears, we are forced to admit that 
some of them, at least, possess more 
than a power of merely discriminating 
between light and darkness. They se- 
lect their food with all the care of ani- 
mals higher ip the scale of being; 
they recognize the approach of enemies 
or friends, and avoid obstacles to their 
movements. In these microscopic 
forms there is little specialization of 
parts or functions. Ajiy one portion 
of the body possesses potentially the 
qualities of the whole, and may not 
this in a measure account for the ab- 
sence of nerves and eyes? or rather, 
may we not look at the whole surface 
as an eye ? 

We can satisfy ourselves that it is 
possible to see objects without having 
an image of them in the eye, by look- 
ing through a deep blue glass toward a 
bright sky. We then distinctly per- 
ceive the corpuscles of the blood rush- 
ing by thousands through the minute 
vessels of the retina. Here there is 
sight without the aid of the converging 
or imagb-forming apparatus of the eye. 
The cornea, lens, and humors are all 
in advance of the object seen, and 



yet the blood-disks, coursing rapidly 
through the vessels of the anterior 
part of the retina, are seen, if we may 
so speak, by its posterior sensitive por- 

^' When a special sense fails in man, 
the general sensibility may partially 
replace it." " I have known several 
instances," says Abercrombie, " of per- 
sons affected with that extreme degree 
of deafness which occurs in the deaf 
and dumb, who had a peculiar suscep- 
tibility to particular kinds of sounds, 
depending, apparently, on an impres- 
sion communicated to their organs of 
touch or simple sensation. They could 
tell, for instance, the approach of a 
carriage in the street without seeing it, 
before it was taken notice of by per- 
sons who had the use of all their 

On the Intdlectuod Powers. — Kruse, 
who was completely deaf, nevertheless 
had a bodily feeling of music ; and 
different instruments affected him dif- 
ferently. Musical tones seemed to his 
perception to have much analogy with 
colors. The sound of a trumpet was 
yellow to him ; that of a drum, red ; 
that of the organ, green, etc. — (^Early 
History of Mankind^ by J. B. Taylor.) 
In his Beminiscences of the Opera^ Mr. 
Lumley tells of a friend who used to 
compare the voices of the different cel- 
ebrated singers to different colors, dis- 
tinguishing them so. It is an old say- 
sing of a blind man that ^' he thought 
scarlet was like the soimd of a trumpet." 

Many years ago, the distinguished 
philosopher Spallanzani ascertained 
that bats, when blinded, fly with as 
much ease and precision as when hav- 
ing the use of their eyes ; for they 
avoid all obstacles in their way, turn 
comers, pass through narrow fissures, 
and in no respect differ in their flight 
from bats which have not been so 
treated. These observations have been 
confirmed by later experiments. 

It is fully established that somnam- 
bulists go . wherever they please with- 
out hesitation; read and write, and 
give ample evidence of a power of per- 
ception apparently independent of the 
usual organs of vision. In persons 
subject to attacks of catelepsy, the or- 

gans of special sense are often totally 
inactive, and their functions seem to be 
performed by other and distant parts 
of the body. Such etninent physicians 
as Petetin and Despine have published 
full accounts of many such cases that 
came under their own observation. 

The relation of the general sensi- 
bility to the organs of vision, and to 
the nervous system, is nowhere more 
easily studied, or more interesting, than 
among the Radiates. 

Among all classes of beings, at 
times, and under certain influences, not 
only the general sensibility fails, but 
.even the organs of special sense cease 
to be influenced by their ordinary stim- 
uli ; and animals, though lying in ap- 
pearance dead, retain potentially all 
the energies of life. Extremes of 
heat, cold, and dryness, or scarcity 
of food, produce this condition, which 
in some may last probably an indefinite 
length of time, provided the inducing 
causes remain unchanged. 

Though vastly superior in intelli- 
gence, it cannot be expected that man 
should be entirely exempt from the 
forces which act on, and, we may say, 
mould animals lower in the scale. The 
same organized tissues compose his 
body ; he begins at the same point, and 
passes through identical stages of de- 
velopment with many of them. "When 
living under influences which more 
nearly approach those constantly acting 
on the brute creation, and unrestrained 
by the circumstances which civilization 
has brought about, we not only find 
that he reverts in physical form and 
structure toward those of the beings 
below him, but that he occasionally, as 
we have seen, exhibits those compound 
modes of development that are fre- 
quently noticed among vertebrate ani- 
jnals, and are constant in many of the 
lowest forms of the other grand di- 

We have hardly begun the study of 
the phenomena manifested by man un- 
der disease, when the controlling power 
of intellect is weakened, and those 
forces which are the ruling ones in in- 
ferior beings, and have either lain 
dormant, or been held in subjection, 
seem to come out more prominently. 



We know that Nature has estab- 
lished an intimate relation between 
light and the healthy existence of the 
individual. "Where the former is not 
allowed to exert its imperceptible in- 
fluence on the system through its sur-. 
face^ there disease and structural 
deformities are to be met with. The 
health-giving and beneficent power of 
the sun's rays is evidenced by the ruddy 
faces and well-developed bodies of those 
who live in the country and work in 
the open air ; and the effects of their 
exclusion are to be seen, not only in 
the faces of the miserable denizens of 
narrow streets and crowded alleys, but 
in the blanched, shrivelled counte- 
nances, stooping attitude, and more 
or less uncertain gait, of many of 
our business men, who, judging by 

their years, are still in the prime of 

We think that most physiologists are 
prepared to admit that, under certain 
conditions, the general sensibility may, 
in a vague way, become so sensitive to 
light, and even sound and odors, as to 
attract the attention, but they are not 
prepared to grant more than this, 
namely, that it may take the place of 
sight and hearing, as is claimed for the 
somnambulist and the cataleptic. Nor 
are they willing to concede the possi- 
bility of light reaching the brain 
through the tissues and hard parts of 
the body independently of the eye, and 
producjng the phenomenon which we 
call vision. 

From an article by T, E, Clarky MJ>.t in Pty* 
chological Jounuil. 




First Paper, 

T"^VI> most of my readers the word 
X leprosy is probably associated 
with some vague idea of a terrible dis- 
ease spoken of in the Bible as existing 
among the Jews during their Egyptian 
life, and following them iato Judea; 
whilst mention of it in the New Testa^ 
ment proves that they were still af- 
flicted with it during the time of our 
Saviour. I propose, therefore, to give 
my readers a short sketch of the mal- 
ady itself, and explain where on the 
earth's surface it is now prevalent, as 
well as where in North America it 
may unfortunately still be seen. 

First of all I must premise by say- 
ing, that while as a dermatologist I 
recognize in the Bible, for instance, a 
perfect description of leprosy as it ej:- 
ists at present in many parts of the 
world, yet I consider that many other 
cutaneous affections now perfectly un- 
derstood, were included in the biblical 
accounts, which have naturally been 
much confused by the various transla- 
tors being unacquainted with the dis- 
eases spioken of, and unable to reproduce 

the sketches of them in intelligible lan- 
guage. This point is now too well 
understood and appreciated to need 
any discussion here. I speak of it 
only because it must be remembered. 

The medicalname for the leprosy 
we are discussing, is Elephaniidsis 
GroBcorum, to distinguish it from an 
entirely different affection. Elephant- 
iasis Ardbum^ the two having been 
confounded by the ignorance of trans- 
lators. Now, then, what is true lep- 
rosy, or Elephantiasis GrcBcorum^ the 
Greek elephant disease ? It is a dis- 
ease of the blood of unknown origin, 
which shows itself by the collecting of 
an albuminious material in the skin, 
the mucous membranes and tissues of 
the body, or by invading the nerves 
and the ijervous centres. We thus 
have two forms of its manifestation, 
which are distinguished by the terms 
tubercular .and ancesihetic. In the first, 
the most characteristic symptom is the 
lumps and nodes in the skin, and in 
the LeLtter, the paralysis, etcetera^ due to 
the invasion of the nerves and nervous 



centres. In both formS the affection 
is very chronic, lasting from nine to 
eighteen years, before death finally 
comes to relieve the sufferer from his 
misery. Tubercular leprosy com- 
mences by the appearance of dull red 
or purplish patches or lumps on the 
skin, and the mucous membrane of the 
mouth, throat, nose, and eyes. As 
they progress, the patches are harder 
in the centre, and of brownish color ; 
the nodes or tubercles are dull red to 
purplish, and finally assuming a bronzed 
hue, till the substance deposited in them 
gives them a whitish color. After 
months, they may subside, leaving a 
thinner whitish cicatrix. When they 
break down, large cutaneous ulcers 
are formed, one healing whilst others 
form. This same morbid process goes 
on in the mouth, throat, and windpipe, 
and the deposit invades the internal 
organs of the body, gradually wearing 
out the sufferer, on an average, within 
nine and a half years. The discolored 
and wrinkled forehead, the prominent, 
tuberculated, bald eyebrows, the 
bronzed skin, congested eyes, thickened 
eyelids and lips, the large, red, and 
lengthened ears, all form a hideous 
picture, which makes the unfortunate 
leper resemble the poet's description 
of a satyr. 

The anaesthetic form of leprosy is 
characterized by nervous symptoms, 
languor, lassitude, dullness, depression, 
pale and shrunken skin, anxious coun- 
tenance, soft and fiabby muscles ; in 
general terms, insensibility and atrophy. 
We have white patches and large 
blister-like bubbles breaking down into 
cutaneous ulcers, which, healing, leave 
white cicatrices. Extensive surfaces 
of the skin become reddened with 
prickling pain, and the skin is left pale 
and insensible, like parchment. The 
face becomes wasted and cadaverous, the 
jaw drooping from muscular atrophy. 
The hands becom'e thin, paralyzed, the 
fingers bent; the same with the feet 
and toes. Later, a spot appears over 
a joint of the hand or foot, breaking 
down into an open ulcer, exposing the 
bone, and finally the whole bone is 
thrown off, reducing gradually the hand 
or fbot to mere stumps. The internal 

organs are affected, the eyeballs de- 
stroyed, the surface on parts of the body 
becomes insensible to the knife, or even 
live coals. The patient is worn out 
by the disease, sinking, at a general 
average, of some eighteen and a half 
years. These two forms of leprosy 
run separate courses, but are some- 
times, so (b speak, united ; the same 
'person exhibiting symptoms of each. 
Occasionally they run an acute course, 
destroying the patient in a few years. 
Its almost certain fatality, its lin- 
gering character and fitful course, 
its fearful disfigurement, and, we regret 
to add, the ignorance and superstition 
regarding it, render leprosy the most 
dreaded chronic malady that affects 
mankind. This rough sketch of what 
it does to man's body will perhaps ex- 
plain to my readers why it is so dreaded, 
and interest them in my outline of 
where and when this horrible malady 
has scourged the human inhabitants 
of the world, and, I trust, also induce 
them to have more rational ideas in 
reference to the care and treatment of 
lepers than that which unfortunately 
still prevails in many civilized or semi- 
civilized countries. 

The same leprosy yet so prevalent in 
many parts of the world is spoken of 
as afflicting the Jews during their four- 
century sojourn in Egypt. They car- 
ried it, of 'course, into Palestine. The 
writings of Moses, the Books of Kings, 
and the Chronicles, show how the peo- 
ple were afflicted by this disease. The 
New Testament speaks of its preva- 
lence during our Saviour's time. In 
Greece, Aristotle perhaps meant lep- 
rosy by his salyria, but Areteus and 
Archigenes gave the first exact des- 
cription. In Italy, the Romans men- 
tioned leprosy before the time of Christ. 
Pliny the Eldei^ speaks of it as coming 
with the army of Pompey from Asia 
and Egypt ; Plutarch says it did not enter 
Rome till Asclepiad's time. During 
Galen's life, leprosy had spread to Ger- 
many, to Mysia and Scythia, and thus 
over the greater part of the then 
known Eastern Europe. Areteus 
traces it from thence to the Celts, and 
so over Western Europe. From the 
I 2d to the 7th centuries it was certainly 



widely extended over the whole of Eu- 
rope, since all medical writers mention 
it as among the most common of dis- 
eases. In the 7th centary it was so 
common among the Lombards as to 
cause them to be shunned by other 
people. Pope Sylvester I. dissuaded 
Pepin, King of France, from marrying 
a Lombard princess, because she was 
disposed to leprosy. In other coun- 
tries, also, we have records of the 
spread, or, perhaps, original springing 
up of leprosy. In India, Persia, Tur- 
key, Hindostau, Russia, it would 
seem to have moved gradually from the 
East to the West, and from the South 
to the North. It certainly has arisen 
and declined at different periods. 
Through Europe, by the time of the 
Crusades, it had reached its height. 
Mention by medical authors, and laws 
for the establishment and government of 
leper or lazar-houses, point out to 
us the invasion, frequency, and grad- 
ual decline of the disease in those 
countries where it has prevailed, and 
whose written history still remains. 
From the Idth to the 17th centuries it 
began to decline in Europe. That 
most industrious observer, Uie late Sir 
James Simpson, of Edinburgh, hunted 
up the notices of leprosy and leper 
hospitals in Great Britain. The ear- 
liest records of the disease are those 
of the Welsh King, Hoel Dha, in the 
year 950. From that date until the 
beginning of the 16th century, the dis- 
ease was common in England. Dur- 
ing the reign of Edward VI., 1550, 
it is reported by a commission for the 
suppressing of colleges, hospitals etc., 
that most of the lazar-houses in Eng- 
land were empty. In Scotland, the 
disease appeared later, 1150 being 
the date of the earliest lazar-houses, 
but leprosy was still traceable during 
the 17th century. In 1604, a lep- 
rous woman was ordered into the 
lazar-house at Aberdeen, and a no- 
tice of the same date exists of the 
presence of patients in the hospital 
at Kingscase, near Ayr. Symptoms 
of decline of the disorder in Scotland 
are perceived in an order for dis- 
mantling the lazar-house at Greenside, 
Edinburgh, in 1652 ; but in the islands 

to the north of Scotland, the Orkneys, 
Shetland, and Faroe Islands, the dis- 
ease wlis in full activity. Towards 
the middle of the 18th century, name- 
ly, in 1742, leprosy was supposed to 
have disappeared in the Shetland Isl- 
ands, and a public thanksgiving was 
ordered to commemorate that event; 
but instances still presented themselves 
occasionally, as is shown in the account 
of die parish of Northmaven, given by 
Mr. Jack, in 1758. In 1798, also, a 
patient was in the Edinburgh Infirm- 
ary ; he was a native of Shetland, and 
a direct descendant from leprous an- 

Naturally enough, many other pa- 
tients with loathsome diseases were 
sent into the leper hospitals. The 
records are, however, so clear of the 
gradual disappearance of the disease 
in countries where it was once preva- 
lent, as to encourage us to hope fov its 
final fading away from those portions 
of the earSi now still scourged by it. 
But where, I hear some one asking, does 
leprosy exist to-day? I could almost 
best, answer by stating where it does 
not exist. Il still lingers amongst 
many of its old haunts on the shores 
of the Mediterranean, ih France, Italy, 
Greece, and the Grecian Islands. On 
the Black Sea shores it even has the 
name of ^^ Crimean disease." It is 
endemic at the mouths of the rivers of 
the Caspian Sea, such as the Volga. 
The islands of the Indian Ocean have 
their share still. The Atlantic islands, 
also, like Maderia and the West India 
Islands, Mexico and South America. 
The extreme north is still its home,— - 
Iceland and the coast of Norway. In 
Norway a royal commission was ap- 
pointed, a few years back, to examine 
into the nature! of the disease, and deter- 
mine the course to be taken to limit its 
progress, and, if possible, effect its cure. 
The report of this commission was 
printed in French, at the expense of 
the Norwegian government. The 
writers were Drs.. Danielssen and 
B(Bck. It is the first complete work 
on leprosy, and details the disease and 
its treatment in the hospitals devoted 
to it at Bergen, in Norway. Its great 
value is also enhanced by the accom- 



panying portraits of the patients af- 
fected with leprosy. Since then these 
physicians have published still more 
elaborate portraits of the disease. I 
pause here a moment to say that lep- 
rosy, where prevalent, spares neither 
rank or condition. Dr. Simpson says 
that observations are by no means suf- 
ficient either decidedly to confirm or 
controvert the opinion that King Heiv 
ry IV. was affected with leprosy ; but 
they serve to show, at least, that at the 
time at which he lived rank of the high- 
est kind was not considered as any bar- 
rier against an attack of the disease. In 
none of the alleged cases of leprosy in the 
royal family of England, is the proof 
of the actual existence of the disease 
at all indubitable and complete. The 
evidence is more certain and satisfac- 
tory in regard to the occurrence of the 
malady in its genuine form in other 
scions of the House of Anjou, than 
those who ascended the throne of Eng- 
land ; for instance, Bald*](7in IV., King 
of Jerusalem, a direct descendant, like 
the Plantaganets of England, from 
Fulk, Count of Anjou and Tourraine. 
All historians seem to ^agree in stating 
Baldwin IV. to have labored for some 
years under leprosy, and to have ulti- 
mately resigned his sceptre in conse- 
quence of disability from that disease. 
Fuller, iu 1174, says of him, " He was 
inclined to the leprosie called elephan- 
tiasis." By 1183 "the leprosie had 
arrested him prisoner and kept him at 
home ;" " at last he was made to stoop, 
and retired himself to private life." 

The disease also did not spare the 
royal family of Scotland. At least two 
cases of leprosy are alleged to have oc- 
curred among the members of it. 
King Robert the Bruce died of it. 

In 1867 the British Grovemment 
published a *' Report on Leprosy, by 
the Royal College of Physicians, to her 
Majesty's Secretary of State for the 
Colonies." The portion of the re- 
port relating to India contains over a 
hundred replies from medical officers 
located between Peshawur and Cal- 
cutta, and the Himalayas and Central 
India, together with Burmah and the 
Straits. From a perusal of this re- 
port we learn that there are parts of 

British India where one out of every 
sixteen people is affected with leprosy. 
Whether it is on the increase, is diffi- 
cult to say. The natives are reported 
as shunning even the mention of the 
disease, and will invariably, if possi- 
ble, mislead as to the facts of the case. 
Leprqsy .is shown to be very common 
among the natives throughout the whole 
Presidency and the Straits. It is com- 
mon in the three stations of Penang, 
Malacca, and Singapore. It would 
seem as if India was the present home 
of leprosy, although few portions of 
the globe are quite free from it. Its 
prevalence in parts of what we call Chi- 
na is well shown by the local hospitals 
for its cure and treatment. This report 
I have just spoken of, and the various 
letters of medical men from different 
parts of the world, in reply to a gen- 
eral request for personal information 
from Prof. Vicrhow, of Berlin, have 
given a much more correct and ex- 
tended knowledge of this fearful mal- 
ady, but one which the student of der- 
matology had already acquired through 
Drs. Danielssen <& Boeck's special trea- 
tise, published in 1848. 

The Relative Value op Fish and 
Butchers' Meat. — The elementary 
composition of the ffesh of mammifers 
differs little &om that of fish, espec- 
ially when dried ; the blood of fish is 
less rich in globules; the amount of 
earthy salts is less in proportion to the 
organic matter in osseous fish than in 
reptiles, birds or mammifers ; the skel- 
eton of cartilaginous fish consists of a 
peculiar firm animal matter without 
calcareous deposit ; the milt coiltains a 
fatty substance closely resembling that 
of the yolk of a fowl's e^g ; between 
the roe of fish and the eggs of birds 
the analogy is perfect ; the fatty matter 
extracted from fish differs greatly in 
consistence, according to the varieties 
firom which it is obtained. Finally, 
chemical, analysis shows that fish 
contains all the constituent elements 
of a perfectly composed food. As re- 
gards nutritive power, the flesh of fish 
holds the second rank ; it is as whole- 
some as the fiesh of mammiferous 
animals or of birds. 



THE plant from which a large Bonrce 
of wealth is obtained ia a shrub, 
the native coantry of which ia atill not 
deAaitely known. Altfaongh it has 
been cnltivatetl for man/ hundreds of 
fears in China, and its use alluded to 
in ancient Chinese legends, it has not 
been di^verod in that country in a 
wild state, but truly natire tea occurs 
in the jungles of Mortb-e«iBtem India. 


At one time botanists were incliued 
to the opinion that black and green 
teas were furnished by two distinct 
species, the/ormer by Tkea hohea and 
the latter by T. vtVtiw. So little dif- 
ference exists between them that there 
seems no doubt as to their being mere 
varieties, and both are now osuaJly re- 
ferred to one species, the Thta thmtruia 
of Linosas. Though tea is now 
largely grown in Assam, and some also 
in Japan, the plants cultivated in both 
conntrics are varieties introduced from 
China. The black and green teas of 
• commerce may be prepared &om either 
ibrm of the plant, according to the 
pleasure of the tea farmer, the color 
in ft great measure depending upon the 
rapidity of the artificial drying of the 
leaf, and also upon the length of time 
Ifae freshly gathered leaves are exposed 
to the air before beating. There are, 
VOL. 11.-14 

however, districts in China called re- 
spectively the Black and Green tea 
(Ustricts, in which the plauts are grown 
specially for each purpose. For the 
preparation of either sort the leaves 
are gathered by hand, and the younger 
ones should alone be taken. If they 
ore intended for the manufacture of 
black tea they are exposed to the air 
for a short time, after which they are 
placed in iron pans and submitted to a 
gentle heat for a few minutes. By thie 
process much moisture is thrown off, 
and the leaves are rendered pliable, so 
that they are easily pressed or roiled 
between the hands, by which the cha^ 
acteristic twist or curl is given to them. 
Before, however, they are fitfor market, 
they are exposed to the air for two or 
three days, and finally dried in iron 
pans over a slow fire -The chief dif- 
ference in tha preparatioir of genuioo 
green tea is, that it has to be more 
quickly dried after iindergoing the 
curling or twisting process in the 
hands, black tea being allowed to ra- 
main in heaps in a flaccid state, before 
the final drying or roasting, which, ia 
itself, is much slower. ^ 

The processes peculiar to the prepa- 
ration of black tea are styled Leang- 
Chiug, To-Ching, and Oc-Ching ; and 
these all consist in carefully watched 
and regulated processes of heating the 
leaves, until a certain degree of fra- 
grance is developed. The leaves are 
said to wither and give, and beoome 
soft and flaccid. The utmost care, 
practical skill, and experienoQ are re- 
quired in rightly condualng these op- 
erations ; and as soon as the proper 
point is arrived at, the leaves are to be 
immediately removed to the roasting. 

After being roasted and rolled two 
or three times they are then to be 
dried, and this is efiected in a cylinder 
of basket-work, open at both ends, and 
covered on the outaide with paper ; it 
is about two and a half feet in height, 
and one and a half in diameter, which 
diameter is diminished in the centre, 
as in a dico-boz,^to one foot and a 



quarter. This stands over and round 
a small charcoal fire, and is supplied 
with cross-bars about fourteen inches 
above the fire, on which an open 
sieve, containing the tea, is placed. 
A small aperture, about an inch and a 
half in diameter, is made in the centre 
of the tea with the hand, so that an as- 
cending current of air and the prod- 
ucts of combustion pass through and 
over the tea contained in the sieve. 
A circular flat bamboo tray is placed 
partially over the mouth of this basket- 
work cylinder, and most probably 
serves to regulate the rapidity of the 
ascending current, and prevent the ad- 
mission of the* cold air to the leaves, 
and at the same time allow a sufficient 
outlet for the generated watery vapors 
and the products of combustion. 

At the commencement of this oper- 
ation the moist leaves are still green, 
and retain their vegetable appearance. 
After the drying has continued about 
half an h6ur the leaves are turned, 
and again submitted to the heat for 
another half hour ; they are then taken 
out, rubbed and twisted, and after sift- 
ing away the small dust, again returned 
to the sieve and drying tube. This 
operation of sifting is very necessary, 
to remove any of the small tea or dust 
which might otherwise fall through 
the meshes of the sieve on to the fire, 
as the products of their combustion 
would deteriorate and spoil the flavor 
of the tea. 

The leaves have now begun to as- 
sume their black color; the fire is 
diminished or deadened by ashes, and 
the operation of rolling, twisting, and 
sifting is repeated once or twice, until 
they have become quite black in color, 
weU twisted, and perfectly dry and 
crisp. They are then picked, win- 
nowed, and placed in large quantities 
over a very slow fire for about two hours. 

In the operations for the manufac- 
ture of green tea, on die contrary, the 
freshly picked leaves are roasted at 
once, without delay, at a high temper- 
ature; rolled and roasted again and 
again, assisted sometimes with a fan- 
ning operation, to drive off the mois- 
ture ; and always with brisk agitation, 
tmtil the drying is completed. 

A great deal, however, of the green 
tea consumed in this country, is artifi- 
cially colored by the Chinese, chiefly 
with Prussian blue, gypsum, and tur- 
meric. Of course it is only inferior 
teas that are so treated, a good face 
being thus given to them. They can 
mostly be detected by placing a hand- 
ful of the tea on a sheet of white 
paper ; a thick, greenish dust will not 
only be left on the paper, but, will rise 
every time the tea is shaken. By 
breaking a few leaves, also, with the 
finger nails, this colored tea will show 
a brownish fracture, while genuine un- 
colored tea is more or less green 
throughout, and consequently little or 
no dust is deposited from it. As the 
leaves of true tea vary very much in 
size and form, adulteration with the 
leaves of some other plants is not so 
easily detected. The nearest approach, 
however, to the form of the true tea 
leaves are those of Camellia sasangua. 
This plant itself is a near botanical 
ally to the tea, and the leaves are more- 
over used by the Chinese for scenting 
many of their teas. Most other leaves 
which have been found as adulterants 
may be detected by their forms. 

We give a figure of a leaf of true tea. 

Leaf of the Tea Plant •» natural size of a ftilNgrown 




If a leaf of black tea be soaked in 
cold water, spread out, and inspected 
through a microscope of ordinary 
power, it will present the appearance 
shown in the cut ; the older and larger 
leaves will be of a dullish green, and 
the younger ones of a light semi- 
transparent green. It will not serve 
us to examine the internal structure 
of the leaf, as it has many points in 
common with other leaves,' and would 
moreover require minute examination. 
The best black tea, then, should pre- 
sent the appearances above indicated, 
and the same may be said of green tea, 
with this exception, that after being 
soaked it is of a paler green color than 
the former. 

Amongst the commercial varieties of 
tea the following are the best known : 
— Congou; this constitutes the bulk 
of black tea from China. It is that 
which is usually sold as black tea, and 
of course varies much in price accord- 
ing to its purity. 

Souchong and Pekoe are both finer 
kinds of black, and fetch higher prices. 
Another kind of black called Orange 
Pekoe may be known by its long, wiry 
leaves, which are mostly genuine ; it 
is artificially scented, and is generally 
used by grocers for mixing with in- 
ferior kinds. 

Caper is a common black tea, arti- 
ficially scented ; the leaf as we see it 
in commerce has the form of the Gun- 
powder leaf, but these are made up of 
tea-dust and other matters agglutinated. 

Amongst green teas, genuine Gun- 
powder is the finest ; the qualities and 
prices, however, vary very much ; the 
leaves of the best are in fine, dose 
curlB, and are the younger ones gath- 
ered from the tops of the plants. The 
lower qualities of this tea are almost 
all colored artificiaUy^, and many con- 
tain no perfect or whole leaf at ail, but 
are made up of broken tea-leaves. In 
Hyson the leaf is longer than Gun- 
powder ; it is mostly composed of the 
true leaf, Dut is very frequently artifi- 
cially colored. 

Oolong is really a green tea, but 
with so black an appearance that its 
color is only developed by putting it in 
hot water. It is artificially scented, 

and is used for mixing with other 
kinds of tea. 

Though teas of varied qualities are 
imported from China, those of the very 
finest kinds seldom leave the country, 
except a small quantity which is car- 
ried overland to Russia, where they 
sell for as much as twelve dollars per lb., 
and the same price is even paid by the 
princes and mandarins of China in the 
very country where the tea b produced. 
It is said that these fine teas would 
deteriorate in quality in such a journey 
as that from China to England or 
America. A fine variety of Assam 
tea, called Flowery Pekoe, is now 
chiefiy imported for the Russian trade, 
very little of it being sold in this coun- 
try. Though the Russians boast, and 
with good reason, of the quality of 
their tea, a vast quantity of rubbish is 
sent to that country from China for 
consumption by the poorer classes. 

Tea leaves contain an active princi- 
ple called '^ theine," and a jrolatile oil ; 
they also contain about fifteen per cent, 
of gluten or nutritive matter, very 
little of which, however, is extracted 
by the ordinary methods of tea-making, 
and about twenty-five per cent, of tan- 
nin, or astringent matter. The efiect 
of theine upon the human systeih is to 
excite the brain to greater activity, 
but whether or not it soothes the vas- 
cular system by preventing the rapid 
waste of the body, is a point upon 
which physiologists are not quite agreed. 
Prof. Liebig asserts that theine con- 
tributes to the formation of bile ; and, 
indeed, shows that its chemical equiv- 
alents are similar to those of taurine, 
the nitrogenized compound peculiar to 
bile. If, therefore, this product can 
be obtained from tea, instead of from 
the change of matter in the tissues, it 
must necessarily cause a great economy 
of the human frame. Theine, how- 
ever, if taken in excessive quantities, 
produces tremblings, irritability, and 
wandering thoughts ; it has been recom- 
mended that when these symptoms 
show themselves, cocoa should be used 
as a beverage for a few days. The 
volatile oil is narcotic, and exhilarat- 
ing ; it is to this oil that the fiavor and 
odor of tea are due. It is of course 



present in larger quantities in new teas 
than in old, therefore the fresher the 
teat are the fuller is their flavor and 
odor, consequently no kind of tea im- 
proves by being kept exposed to the 
air or even in paper, so that tea 

weighed at the time of purchase should 
be preferred to that sold in packets, 
the buyers of such tea having to risk 
the length of time it has been packed; 
and, moreover, the teas themselves are 
usufdly of an inferior description. 



First Paper. 

THOU art wonderfully and fear- 
fully made-up, O Woman! — 
truly Solomon, in all his glory, was 
not arrayed like one of thee; these 
passages of Scripture a little perverted, 
are in a measure descriptive of the 
dress of our modem women. By 
dress we mean everything in the shape 
of clothing that covers the person, 
whether worn with a view to comfort, 
beauty, or deception ; that's a hard 
word, but it best expresses the use of 
a great many things worn by ladies at 
the present time. Now I am not go- 
ing to follow in the beaten path of 
w^ting a tirade against women's ex- 
travagance, vanity, and all that sort of 
thing, nor to define the style or color 
of dress, or to notice it in its aesthetic 
relations at all, farther than the health 
and comfort of the wearer is concerned^ 
knowing well that the labor would be 
lost, as woman will always regulate 
such matters to suit herself. What I 
propose to do, is to point out some fail- 
ings in the present style of dress that 
women seem to be ignorant of, and to 
show them how the clothing should be 
apranged on the person so as to be best 
adapted to the purposes for which dress 
is designed, without inconvenience or 
harm to the wearer ; for that the man- 
ner in which some portion of the female 
dress is worn at the present time is pro- 
ductive of injury cannot be denied. 

TAc Ancient Style of Dress, 

We all know that the first style of 
dress adopted by our first parents was 
the fig-leaf, and, primitive though it 
was, it was all-sufficient for the cli- 
mate and state of nature by which 
Adam and Eye were surrounded. 

Then, as now, the fashions changed 
often (so the women must have dic- 
tated the styles even in that day), and 
soon a more perfect covering — mainly 
of the skins of wild beasts thrown loose- 
ly about the form — was substituted for 
the fig-leaf. This, in time, was re- 
placed by garments of coarse linen of 
the imperfect domestic manufacture of 
the day. The form and appearance 
of these garments changed in about 
the same way they do now, the differ- 
ence being mainly in the minor details 
of ornament and arrangement. One 
style of dress that was worn by women 
for a long time, without essential 
change, was a long gown falling from 
the shoulders, aud fitted to the form at 
the neck only. Generally, but a single 
garment was worn. At odier periods, 
a dress was used that fitted the form 
loosely, being composed of two pieces, 
secured by a brooch or ornament over 
each shoulder, leaving the sides open, 
and allowing great freedom for the 
motion of the limbs. With such a 
dress, stomachers, consisting of a col- 
ored or embroidered handkerchief or 
shawl folded loosely about the waist, 
were oflen used to confiine the garment 
to the body. Sometimes these shawls 
and embroidered cloths were worn so 
large as to forxii a sort of petticoat. 
As a general rule, the stomachers and 
girdle about the waist were for orna- 
ment only, and were rarely used to 
support the clothing. UsuaHy, the 
arms were left quite bare And free, or, 
when sleeves were worn, they rarely 
extended to the elbow. Whenever a 
petticoat or skirt was worn that had 
no attachment to the shoulders, it was 
suspended firom the waist, — not by a 



tight band an inch wide, as is now 
used, — but by a full, ample, folded 
girdle, widely diffusing the •pressure, 
and not pressing on or binding down 
the waist to any appreciable degi'ee. 
In some nations — the Greek, mainly 
— a light jacket was worn, not fitting 
tightly, but hanging loosely over an 
under garment, and full, flowing trou- 
sers, supported at the waist by the easy 
fitting girdle ; so that when the Greek 
and Roman women of old times wore 
their clothing suspended from the 
waist, it was effected in such a man- 
' ner as not to occasion the least incon-* 
venience. This principle of freedom 
and ease in dress was maintained and 
recognized as the best for some thou- 
sands of years ; the principal changes 
daring this time were in its arrange- 
ment and trimming, and in the mate- 
rials and ornaments used ; the form of 
wearing it remained essentially the 
same. On the old Assyrian and Egyp- 
tian sculptures we see this style of dress 
for women portrayed down to the pe- 
riod when the history of these nations 
ceases. The Jewish archives prove that 
it was worn by their women during 
the many centuries of their varied ex- 
istence as a nation, and we know 
from the history of Greece, Rome, and 
other nations, that it was only in com- 
paratively modem times that a style 
of dress approaching the present fash- 
ion in its close-fitting, restrictive ar- 
rangement was adopted. Just when 
the tight bodice, the multiplicity of 
skirts, and the tight bands about the 
waist came into vogue, cannot be pos- 
itively stated ; probably the change was 
a gradual one ; and as for the abomina- 
tions of corsets, panniers, and bustles, 
it is no wonder that their origin is lost 
in obscurity, as any age ought to be 
ashamed to own their introduction, 
since their use so oflen degenerates 
into positive abuse. 

What Women must wear. 

Now don't think that I am about to 
recommend that women should wholly 
abandon the present style of dress, and 
return to either the primitive fig-leaf, 
or the ancient peplum or tunica^ and, 
worse still, that she should adopt a 

bloomer costume. Those who fear 
that women, as a class, will ever adopt 
an attire similar to that worn by men, 
may rest assured that such will never 
be the case while she retains her pres- 
ent regard for appearance, above all 
other things, for this reason : owing to 
certain functional peculiarities of the 
sex, the hips in women are much 
broader than . in men, therefore the 
bones .of the lower limbs are more 
widely separated than in the other 
sex ; the consequence is, that most 
women walk with an unsteady, vac- 
illating movement, — waddle is the 
best term to express it, — very differ- 
ent from the bold, firm, confident step 
of men. By the use of the full, flow- 
ing skirt, the details of a woman's step 
are not observable, consequently the 
awkward movement is changed into a 
graceful, gliding, undulating motion. 
Women, knowing this, will be likely to 
retain the style of dress that best con- 
ceals this peculiarity of gait, and will not 
readily adopt the pantaloon, the very 
style of all others that would expose it, 
appearances being prominent above all 
other considerations with them. The 
full skirt, then, being the style of dress 
likely to be .worn by our women for 
this generation at least, the question 
arises, How shall it be suspended? 

Bespiratory Movement of the Chest and 


To properly understand how the 
body is affected by the disposition of 
the clothing, it is necessary for the 
reader to know how the function of 
respiration is performed by the walls 
of the chest and abdomen, and for this 
purpose the accompanying plate has 
been introduced. The black line shows 
the outline of ,the chest and abdomen 
just after an expiration, when the 
lungs are empty of air, and the chest 
collapsed ; the dotted line indicates the 
change of form when the chest is ex- 
panded after an inspiration. Inspir- 
ation is accomplished not only by the 
direct expansion of the lung itself, but 
by the expansion of the chest walls as 
well, aided by the descent of the dia- 
phragm into the abdominal cavity, 
forcing the orgi^ in this locality 


downwards, to make room for the ex- 
jtaosion of the lower part of the lungs. 

Tpraa. c, Bbdoniliial eatliy. d, vonebriB or back- 

Expiration is produced bj the elasticity 
of the lung tissue forcing the air out, 
the collapse of the chest-walls, and the 
contraction of the abdominal muscles, 
so that the organs being pushed up- 
wards force the diaphragm against the 
lungs, and assist in expelling the air 
from them. That the abdominal mus- 
cles play any important part in the 
specific act of im^iration cannot be 
stated positively, but that their action 
is necessary for the proper performance 
of respiration as a whole is undoubted, 
us any one may readily convince them- 
selves by placing the hand on the ab- 
dominal muscles, and noting their ac- 
tive motion during resipiration. Of 
course, if the chest or aodomen is tied 
down by tight corsets, by waistbands, 
or by ligatures of any kind, the walls 
cannot expand, and respiration cauuot 
be properly performed. A healthy 
person whose chest is not confined in 
any way should breathe about twenty 
times a minute ; but I notice that most 
ladies who dress in the fashionable 
style of to-day, instead of taking this 
number of full, uaf^iral iuspirations, 

are compelled to breathe much faster, 
shorter, and with miicli less case than is 
natural, owing to the confined state of 
their waists and chests. By degrees 
they get accustomed to this style of 
breathing, so that they fail to notice 
its peculiarity, but this does not lessen 
the bad effects of it. The lungs miwf 
have a certain amount of air to main- 
tain health, and if they cannot get it 
by the usual full deep inspiration, the 
short, quick, unnatural style of breath- 
ing is substituted. 

; Wo- • 

" Oh, I don't wear corsets to make 
my waist small, but to support my 
clothing ! " nearly every woman will say, 
when the charge isbrought home to her ; 
but, spite of all their protestations, 
an examination reveals the fact that 
in the great majority of cases the cor- 
sets are so light that the hand cannot 
be slipped between them and the body ; 
if nothing but that will support wo- 
men's clothing, as worn at present, 
the sooner we return to primity the 
better it will bo for all concerned. 
Then, added to the corsets, are half a 
dozen tight ligatures about the waist, 
in the shape of the waistbands of the 
dress, skirts, and underclothing. The 
pannier, bustle, and perhaps half a 
dozen other things, also find their point 
of support at the waist. The average 
weight, all the year round, of that por- 
tion of a woman's clothing which is 
supported from the waist, is betweeo ten 
and fifteen pounds. " Tliat's a story I" 
I hear you all exclaim ; but wait : 
weigh the clothing for yourself before 
you pass judgment, and see if I am not 
right. Remember — everything thiU 
is suspended from the loaist — including 
hoopskirt, and skirt of dress ; for the 
waist of the tatter is made so tight, 
that the skirt gets no support from the 
shoulders. Think what a weight that 
is to have suspended from the waist I 
If a woman was sentenced to carry 
such a weight about in this way for a 
number of years, for some great crime, 
the punishment would be denounced as 
an inhuman one ; yet there arc thou- 
sands of women in our streets daily 



endurlDg such a punishment volunta- 
rilj, because it is the custom, and be- 
cause thej do i;pt know the bad effects 
likely to follow it. I have often heard 
ladies expressing pity for military men 
in their tight coats and belts, but let 
me tell them that a close-fitting uniform, 
with all its belts and trappings, can be 
worn with far more comfort and less 
injury than a tight corset, or waist- 
bands, as they are usually worn. In 
our army, during the late war, soldiers 
were never injured by weight suspend- 
ed from the shoulders ; but if heavy 
equipments were attached to the waist- 
belts, as was the custom at the com- 
mencement of the war, they invariably 
caused great mischief. Later, the knap- 
sack, the heavy cartridge-box, the hav- 
eiqpack, and the canteen, were all sus- 
pended from the shoulders, as it was 
found impossible for the soldier to carry 
any of them at the waist without injury. 
The officer's sword, even, though at- 
tached to the waist-belt, was suspended 
mainly from the shoulder by a light 
cross-belt. Any one who has ever 
worn equipments will recognize the 
great relief gained by taking the weight 
off the waist; yet we oflen find deli- 
eate women supporting a greater 
weight, in this way, than it was found 
politic to impose on able-bodied men. 

Waist or Shoulders f 

This is the point that I wish to im- 
press on my lady readers : that their 
clothing should be suspended from the 
shoulders rather than from the waist 
or hips, because the shoulders, from 
their form and position, are better 
adapted as points of support, those 
portions of the shoulders on which 
braces or suspenders rest being formed 
mainly of bony parts, which have 
hardly any other office to perform than 
to furnish points of attachment for the 
muscles, and for support for the arms, 
and it is unnecessary for the braces to 
press heavily on any part of the chest 
that is actively employed in respiration. 
That is why the shoulders should be 
used for the support of the clothing ; 
and now we wiU show why the waist 
should not be used. On the freedom 
of the female from all undue abdom- 

inal pressure, as well in the single as 
in the married state, depends not only 
the health, but the very existence of 
their offspring, — our entire race. The 
organs ^ected by such pressure are 
complicated and delicate in their struc- 
ture, and if confined or pressed upon 
in any way, become subject to those 
innumerable " diseases of women " 
which were but little Icnown among 
the sex until the introduction of the 
tight corset and waistbands, and the 
dragging skirt, and which increase in 
frequency as fashion increases the in- 
novations and styles o& dress designed 
merely to please the eye (but generally 
failing in this even) without the least 
regard to the comfort or health of the 
wearer. Men, who would not be lia- 
ble to si^er one-half the injury that 
women are liable to, rarely wear their 
clothing suspended in this way, the light 
weight of the trousers even being sup- 
ported from the shoulders by braces. 
That the abdomen is not as well fitted 
as the shoulders for the support of the 
clothing, should be evident to any one 
from their different form and construc- 
tion, the latter being bony and resisting 
in character, while the parts about the 
waist are soft and yielding ; the superior 
shape and position of the shoulders is 
a great point in their favor. Women 
forget — indeed many are never aware 
of it — that the abdominal muscles 
have important offices to perform in 
addition to the part they play in res- 
piration. This is another indication 
of the great want of education in 
the physical constitution of our bod-, 
ies, which is so apparent in even 
those classes of society where no pains 
or expense are spared to make the pu- 
pil's education perfect; yet the "one 
thing needful " is neglected. This ap- 
plies to both sexes ; and until the rising 
generation is taught something of the 
construction and organization of their 
bodies, we cannot expect to have a 
healthy race of men and women. If 
a band be tied tightly around a muscle 
in any part of the body so as to pre- 
vent its natural contraction, the sub- 
stance of the muscle will gradually 
waste away, become smaller in size, 
and, in time, lose all its power. 



This is just the way that the muscles 
of the chest aud abdomen are affected 
by tight^lacing. Every physician is 
familiar with the thin, attenuated ap- 
pearance of these muscles in women 
who have been in the habit of wear- 
ing tight corsets «nd bands. I have 
seen these muscles so wasted from this 
cause, that hardly one-fourth of their 
original bulk remained, so you see how 
imperfectly respiration was performed 
in these cases; but this is not all 
the mischief done by the paralyzing of 
these muscles ; in women, the abdoni- 
inal muscles have to perform the very 
important office of assisting in child- 
birth by their forcible contraction, and 
it is well known ^by physicians that 
women in civilized countries suffer 
much more protracted confinements 
than those in a savage state ; also, that 
in the same communities, the higher 
the station in society, or, in short, the 
more the women of a class are gov- 
erned by the dictates of fashion, now 
in force, the greater is the suffering ex- 
perienced in the hour of their greatest 
trial. "Women in the lower orders of 
society, despite their vicissitudes of 
hard labor, exposure, want, and suf- 
fering, as a general thing suffer less in 
this way than their more favored sis- 
ters of the upper orders, for the rea- 
son, I think, that the poor cannot af- 
ford the luxury ( ?) of tight corsets, 
and their active duties preclude them 
from wearing their skirts and dresses 
as tight as the fair ladies whose hands 
are never soiled by labor, and whose 
shoulders never bore a burden ; so the 
muscles are not bound down and par- 
alyzed, but are developed to their full 
vigor, and enabled to perform fully the 
duties for which they were supplied. 
The proper movement of the bowels 
depends greatly on the proper contrac- 
tion of the abdominal muscles ; if this 
power is deficient, — as it will be when 
the muscles have been paralyzed or 
weakened by tight corsets or dragging 
skirts, — this function will not be prop- 
erly discharged, and great misery is 
apt to ensue ; yet one of the most active 
exciting causes is often overlooked. 
These tight corsets and skirtbands are 
I^oductive of a great deal more misery 

than any one is aware of. This quel* 
tion of the relative meiits of the shoul- 
ders and waist as points of support for 
the clothing, has long been discussed, 
and many arguments have been ad- 
vanced in support of both modes, but 
the preponderance of testimony is de- 
cidedly in favor of the shoulders. It 
is said that straps over the chest will 
impede respiration ; and so they will, 
if improperly worn, but a little judg- 
ment will easily remedy this defect. 
It is also said they will restrict muscu- 
lar motion and freedom of exercise of 
the arms ; but this will not be effected 
one-half as readily by braces over the 
shoulders as by the tight-fitting waists 
of dresses that are worn now. No wo- 
man can make her hands meet quickly 
over her head with the arms extended at 
full length, with any comfort, whne 
tied up in one of the fashionable cos- 
tumes of to-day; and the objection 
that braces prevent respiration is not 
valid, for they pan be so arranged that 
they need not interfere with the move- 
ment of the chest in any way. 

Knowledge op One's Self. — It 
is perfectly outrageous that men and 
women should be so profi>undly igno- 
rant, as they are, of the nature of that 
prison-house from which they can never 
escape so long as life lasts, that our 
youth should, under the pretence of 
training, be taught things which they 
can never see or touch in after life, 
should be made wise in phantoms and 
myths, and encouraged to put aside all 
curiosity about the things which they 
carry about with them always every- 
where. Is it not monstrous that many 
a lad of eighteen should have so vivid 
a picture in his mind*s eye, of, say, 
Syracuse during the Peleponnesian war, 
as to make people think he must have 
lived long years in Sicily, while the 
inside of his own body is to him a dim 
mjTStery, of which he can call up no 
clear image, but fancies it is 'somehow 
or other more or less like a pig's ? 

Other animals than man generally lire 
their full and allotted periods, unless de- 
stroyed by yiolence. Plants have a better 
promiie of complete life. 




AMONGST aU the fittings of a do- 
mestic residence, it may fairly be 
asserted that none are so important to 
the comfort of the inmates, or at times 
more conducive to their discomfort, 
than the means and appliances em- 
ployed for warming the building. 
What more delightful than the winter 
fireside of a country house ? or more 
miserable than a smoky chtnmey ? The 
whole subject of fireplaces, chiomeys, 
and fuel, is indeed, so far as the house- 
holder is concerned, all one, though it 
requires to be considered under several 
heads ; we shall also show, in due course, 
that economy and the * healthiness 
of a household are intimately connected 
with the same question. As, however, 
it would be impossible to treat on the 
several heads enumerated above in one 
article, we propose, first of all, after a 
few introductory remarks on chinmeys, 
to devote our attention to the Kitchen 
Range, as being unquestionably the 
most important fireplace in any house. 

It is, we believe, nowhere recorded 
when and where chmmeys were*first 
invented. They were evidently con^ 
men in Venice before the middle of the 
fourteenth centuiy, for an inscription 
over the gate of the school of Santa 
Maria della Carita states that in 1347 
a great many chimneyd were thrown 
down by an earthquaJce, a fact con- 
firmed by John Villani, who refers 
the event to the evening of the 25th of 
January. In the year 1368, also, Gra- 
leazo Gataro relates that Francisco da 
Carraro, lord of Padua, came to Borne, 
and finding no chimneys in the inn 
where he lodged, because at that time 
fire was kindled in a hole in the middle 
of the fioor, he caused two chimnejrs, 
Hke those that had been long used in 
Padua, to be constructed by the work- 
people he had brought with him. From 
the foregoing fieicts we may, perhaps, 
with some degree of correctness, fix 
the fourteenth century, as the date of 
the first introduction of chimneys. 

Now the use of chimneys being, pri- 
marily, to carry away the products of 
^mbustion, and^ secondarily, for pur^ 

poses of ventilation, the subject must 
be considered in both those lights. 
With the huge wood fires of our an- 
cestors, the largQ hearth recess and the 
capacious fine did not interfere with 
the accomplishment of the object pro- 
posed; but when fireplaces were in- 
troduced into small rooms, and coal 
was substituted for wood, the arrange- 
ments which were suited to the large 
hall or kitchen did not i^ply. Five 
hundred years of experience in chim- 
ney construction does not appear to 
have resulted in the deduction of scien- 
tific rules for their apportionment, so 
far as houses are concerned. In this 
respect Architects have unquestionably 
been lefl far behind by Engineers, who, 
when they desire to erect a chimney shaft 
for a factory or steam engine, carefblly 
apportion the dimensions of the structure 
for the work which it has to perform ; 
it is, however, too oflen the case that 
fines in houses are constmqted of the 
same sectional area, whether they be 
twenty or fifty feet in height ; whereas 
dimensions that may be suited for the one 
height are perfectly inappropriate for 
the other. One consequence of this is 
the dbfigurement of buildings by the ad- 
dition of chimney-pots, for the purpose 
of contracting the orifice of a fine 
which has been constructed too large 
for the duty that it has to perform. 
Defects arising from this cause are too 
often attributed to the position of doors 
or windows ; whereas the real reason 
of their existence is assignable solely 
to the entire absence of any calcula- 
tion for determining their proper pro- 
portions. Something, it is true, may 
be said with regard to the setting of 
fireplaces, as well as to their construo- 
tion ; but we do not purpose to enter 
into this question in the present article. 
Perhaps one of the greatest treats 
that a cook could enjoy is to be served 
with a dinner cooked by some one else. 
The reason of this is that the constant 
smell of cooking nauseates the stom- 
ach, making it, by the sympathetic ac- 
tion of the several nerves of the sys- 
tem, disinclined to receive what it has 




80 long anticipated through the action 
of the senses. Similarly, also, the 
mistress of a household enjoys nothing 
better than to get some one else to su- 
perintend the ordering of her several 
meals. But if this is caused, to a cer- 
tain extent, by a mere knowledge of 
what is coming, how much more must 
it be the case when the smell of cook- 
ing — as too often occurs — pervades 
the house as well as the kitchen ; and 
in some instances the smell of dinner 
will be perceivable in other part» of the 
house to a greater extent than in the 
kitchen. To a delicate person this is 
sufficient to entirely destroy the appe- 
tite, and it is due solely to defective 
construction. The cook is too often 
blamed when the architect is in error ; 
and, while few know where to assign the 
fault, fewer still know how to remedy 
it ; but it may be taken for granted that 
the evil will not disappear from amongst 
us, until the art of house construction 
is based upon a more scientific principle 
than it has hitherto attained. Art and 
decoration, and the convenient arrange- 
ment of accommoda. ion, occupy, in the 
present day, far too much of the con- 
sideration of the architect ; whilst san- 
itary arrangements are neglected, and 
the healthfulness of buildings suffers in- 

In order to arrive at a true apprecia- 
tion of the causef that lead to the 
kitchen being a nuisance in a house, 
instead of, as it should be, the means 
of imparting pleasure and comfort, we 
must consider, first, what is a smell 
and how it is conveyed. A smell, 
then — and here we are referring, it 
will be understood, to a smell that 
ought not to exist — is matter in a 
wrong place, and, consequently, it is 
dirt; and not only is the smell of cook- 
ing, when it pervades a house, dirt in a 
scientific sense, but it is so absolutely. 
The smells arising from cooking con- 
sist of minute particles given out from 
food of all kinds, owing to the partial 
chemical decomposition which takes 
place during the application of heat, 
and which are carried off and mixed 
with the surrounding air by the steam or 
other vapors arising therefrom. With 
a properly constructed kitchen range or 

cooking stove, and fine, these will all he 
conveyed up the chimney, and carried 
away into the atmosphere above the 
house. In such case they are harmless, 
and become immediately, so to say, deo- 
dorized, by admixture with a prepon- 
derating amount of atmospheric air. 
When, however, they are permitted to 
escape into the house, they do not meet 
with a sufficient quantity of air to ren- 
der them innocuous; and, upon con- 
densation of the vapors by which they 
are conveyed, they will settle upon the 
interior walb and gradually cover them 
with a coating of grease and vegetable 
matter. These, if not constantly re- 
moved, wiU accumulate, and in time 
decompose, giving off still more objec- 
tionable and unhealthy smells, bat 
which are not so noticeable, in conse- 
quence of the more powerful odors 
arising from a continuance of that evil 
from which they first had their origin. 
It will repeatedly be found that the 
smell of cooking is strong in other 
parts of the house, and especially upon 
the floor immediately above the kitchen, 
whilst the kitchen itself is apparently 
free — or almost so — from the incon- 


veni^ce; and the reason of this is, 
upon a little consideration, made per- 
fectly clear and intelligible. 

The cause of this annoyance is an 
absence of any proper regulation of the 
currents of air through the kitchen, or, 
in other words,' defective ventilation. 

The chimney being, as we have 
already stated, to some exten^ intended 
as a means of ventilation, if it do not 
carry off all the fumes arising from the 
combustion of fuel ; as well as, in the 
case of a kitchen range, all the vapors 
consequent upon cooking, there must 
be something wrong in its arrangement 
or form. Let us for a moment trace the 
air currents of a room. By an old ex- 
periment of applying a lighted paper 
to the edge of a room door when it is 
closed, or partially so, it will be found, 
by the direction given to the flame, that 
there is constantly an inward current 
of air at the lower part of the door, 
and an outward current at the top. 

This arises from the fact that, heated 
air being lighter than cold air, it rises 
to the top of the room, and, escaping 



through the cavity between the upper 
part of the door and the door frame, its 
place is supplied by a current of cooler 
air, which, being heavier, enters from 
below. This lower current will be 
found to be much more powerful when 
there is a fire in the room, as then, be- 
sides supplying the air necessary, to 
replace the escaping heated atmosphere, 
a considerable additional quantity is 
required to support the combustion of 
fuel in the grate, and the air thus sup- 
plied escapes up the chimney ; whereas, 
when there is no fire there is a down- 
ward current in the chimney itself, 
which assists in supplying fresh air to 
the room. Bearing this principle of 
ventilation in mind, let us now trace 
the course of those vapors, or smells, 
which at times escape from the kitchen 
into the other apartments whilst cook- 
ing is going on. In the first place, 
were the ventilation of the kitchen per- 
fect, all these fumes would escape up 
the chimney; but, in the absence of 
proper arrangements for this purpose, 
a portion of them escape into the 
kitchen, in the first place, and, rising 
with the heated vapors of the apart- 
ment, ascend until they fill the entire 
space between the ceiling and the top 
of the doors ; and it will be found by 
practical test that whilst the lower part 
of the room is almost free from smell, 
the npper stratum of air is strongly 
impregnated with the odors arising 
firom cooking. If the top of the door 
leading into the outer air be above that 
of the inner door, a certain portion of 
these will escape into the atmosphere ; 
but, as both doors are usually of the 
same height, tbey will by preference 
escape over the inner door, and so get 
into the other part of the house. This 
arises from the fact that the house it- 
self acts as a huge chimney to the lower 
apartments, and the outer current of 
air is consequently stronger in the di- 
rection of the house than towards the 
atmosphere. The fumes, therefore, 
which are unable to ascend the chim- 
ney will escape into the house, and be 
carried by the ascending atmosphere 
into the passages and rooms on the 
lower floors above. It may, however, 
not unreasonably be asked why, under 

these conditions, the smell is not strong- 
est in the top story, rather than on the 
floor immediately above the kitchen? 
A moment's reflection will explain 
this. K the heated air thus impreg- 
nated retained its initial temperature, 
we should undoubtedly find it most 
conspicuous on the topmost floor ; but 
meeting, as it rises, with cooler cur- 
rents, it not only becomes condensed, 
and so freed to a certain extent from 
its impurities, but by the admixture of 
a- larger quantity of air the impurities 
become diluted; and, ultimately, as 
the air rises, all sense of their exist* 
ence becomes lost. 

There can be no doubt that the in- 
convenience to which we are referring 
exists to a much greater extent where 
the closed top ranges are employed 
than with an open range, in conse* 
quence of the draughts of combustion 
being conveyed up close fines ; whilst 
a small register only furnishes the 
means of escape for the other vapors, 
and through which the draught is not 
sufficiently strong to carry them off*. 
For this reason close-topped ranges 
are more likely to be offensive than 
those with open fires; but for con- 
venience of cooking, the former are 
certainly more advantageous, in con- 
sequence of the whole top of the range 
being a hot-plate. A combiaation 
of the close and open range, whilst 
they possess, to some extent, the con- 
venience of the hot-plate, do not ol>- 
struct the proper current of draught 
up the chimney, and are, therefore, 
not to the same extent liable to the de- 
fects of which we have been speaking. 

In making these remarks we desire 
especially to avoid giving any opinion 
decidedly adverse to close ranges. We 
have known them to act admirably, 
and to be free from the causes of com- 
plaint to which we are referring. From 
what we have already said, it will be 
understood that the smell of cooking 
in a house arises, not generally in con- 
sequence of a defective stove, but from 
a faulty chimney, or the bad setting 
of a stove. 

It would be impossible to lay down 
any golden rule for the avoidance of 
the inconvenience, as each case must 



depend .upon local circumstances. 
Every builder op professed dumney 
doctor will have his own remedy, cow- 
sisting, probably, of some patent in 
which he is personally interested ; but 
whilst all may be good under certain 
circumstances, each one will probably 
be found to fail in nine cases out of 
ten. The only scientific way of get^ 
ting over the difficulty is either to in- 
crease the draught of the chimney 
through the orifice up which the fumes 
of cooking should ascend ; or else to 
draw those fumes off firom the upper 
stratum of air in the kitchen, as near 
the ceiling as may be convenient, 
either by means of a ventilator in the 
chinmey, or by one communicating 
with the outer air from some part in 
the wall, as high as possible above the 
top of the kitchen door« 

A simple yet effectual way of ac- 
complishing the former object is by 

contracting the orifice of the register 
where necessary, and decreasing the 
open space round the front of the range, 
thus inducing a stronger current from 
the kitchen up the fiue. This is quite 
practicable with a kitchen range, al- 
though it could not be applied as a 
remedy for any evils attendant on the 
fireplace of a sitting or sleeping apart- 
ment, because one of the consequences 
would necessarily be the shutting out 
of a portion of the heat of the fire 
from the room. This in the case of 
a kitchen would be no immediate 
drawback, as the fire would still be 
equally available for oulinary pur- 
poses ; but, under circumstances where 
the fire is merely required to heat an 
apartment, any contraction of the 
chimney-piece front would tend imme- 
diately to detract from the very benefits 
the fire was designed to contribute. 



DURING the second phase of 
babyhood important changes take 
place in the whole digestive economy, 
and the infant's comfort and welfare 
are threatened by those numerous and 
ill-defined ailments which are incident 
to tlie period of teething. 

The appearance of the teeth is a 
sign of preparation ior the reception 
of more substantial food than the in- 
fant has hitherto been supplied with ; 
but the cutting of the teeth through 
the gums by no means constitutes the 
whole process of " teething." We are 
apt, indeed, to attach too much impor- 
tance to this one portion of the proems, 
by which our attention is not unnatur- 
ally arrested, as it is the only part that 
is visible to us, and we are liable to 
overlook those other contemporary 
changes in distant parts of the body, 
which may be the real source of much 
of the uneasiness which we unwarily 
attribute to the irritation of the gums 
alone. At this period of the infant's 
life all the digestive organs undergo a 
sapid devebpment, awakening from 

comparative torpor to that state of ac- 
tivity which is necessary for the con- 
version of inanimate vegetable and 
animal foods into living muscle, nerve, 
and bone ; and the presence of teeth 
is a mere mechanical item, it is true a 
very important one, in the long cata- 
logue of agents that come more prom- 
inently into action .in the digestion of 
solid food. 

Thus what we might, at first sight, 
regard as a troublesome and defective 
method by which nature provides us 
with the means of biting our food, we 
observe on more -attentive examination 
to be an admirable means of insuring 
a gradual transition from liquid food, 
through sofl solids, to those tougher 
luxuries we might otherwise be tempted 
to attack before* our digestive organs 
were ready to receive them ; and the 
gradual change in the diet which is 
thus clearly enforced can never be ig- 
nored without giving rise to much dis- 
comfort and suffering. 

The irruption of the teeth in infants 
begins at some period between the sev* 



•nth and nindi months, and is nsuallj 
completed bj the end of the second 
year. ' Daring this time all the milk 
teeth, twenty in number, are evolved ; 
but they do not succeed one another at 
regular intervals of tjime, though they, 
as a rule, appear in definite order. 

The two front teeth of the lower 
jaw appear first, usually towards the 
end of the seventh month, and are fol- 
lowed, after an interval of from four 
to six weeks, or even two months, by 
the corresponding upper teeth; then 
another tooth is added on each side of 
those in the lower, followed by a simi- 
lar addition lo those in the upper jaw. 
The eye teeth do not come next, but 
after three or four months time a 
double tooth appears, usually in the 
lower jaw, and a second one on the 
opposite side ; and these are soon fol- 
lowed by corresponding upper teeth. 
After another interval — perhaps of 
three or four months — the. two eye teeth 
appear above and below, and the re- 
maining four hindermost double teeth 
show themselves after an interval of 
several more months, so that the child 
has all its first set of teeth completed by 
about the second year. 

The times and order of appearance 
of the teeth are subject to certain va- 
riations even in perfect health, and the 
most healthy children do not always 
cut their teeth the earliest. In very 
weakly and disease children the ap- 
pearance of the first teeth may be post- 
poned until after the twelfth, fifteenth, 
or even eighteenth month. 

Each little tooth is contained in a 
separate cell or boc^ of which the inner 
lining consists of a loosely formed 
membrane; when the time advances 
for the liberation of the tooth, this 
membrane contracts, the opening at 
the mouth of the cell is enlarged, and 
the tooth emerges from imprisonment. 
This theory is pronounced in accord- 
ance with sound principles of physi- 
ology, and is at the same time the most 
rationaL According to this theory 
there are two distinct stages of denti- 
tion: the first by which the tooth 
emerges from its c^-like confinement, 
and the second which marks the pierc- 
ing of the ixoSofsr coating of the gum. 

Those who have had experience of in- 
fant management are well acquaint^ 
with the symptoms these stages pre- 
sent. Diarrhoea, sickness, and fretful- 
ness, are frequent. The child carries 
its fingers impatiently to the mouth ; 
but if there are no signs of a coming 
tooth, the cause of irritation is little 

Cases of mismanagement during teeth- 
ing which have come under observa^ 
tion illustrate thousands of others. A 
thoroughly healthy child that has been 
properly fed («. e., on milk), suddenly, 
perchance, shows disturbance of 
health; the mouth is hot, the child 
is fretful, and cries from thirst. In- 
stantly he is supposed to be hungry. 
A meal is given, which is almost im- 
mediately rejected. After a little time 
the fretfulness increases ; food is again 
administered with .the same result. 
The nurse now exclaims that '^ milk 
no longer agrees with the child ; it is 
too poor ; and that better food must ba 
given." The mother becomes alarmed, 
and, without consulting a medical man, 
adopts the nurse's views. Arrowroot, 
sago, t^ioca, baked flour, tops and 
bottom^ beef-tea, veal and mutton 
broth, are all tried in succession, and 
found not to agree. Still a prey to 
anxiety, the parent asks advice of 
every matron within reach ; innumer- 
able remedies are tried ; finally diarr- 
hoea or convulsions set in. Then the 
doctor is sent for. He does what he 
can to palliate sufiering, but the 
healthy constitution of the child has 
usually sustained a shock which reme- 
dial measures are long in removing. 

Too frequently, diseases thus origin- 
ated run their coarse, and the life of 
the little one is sacrificed. Death is 
then ascribed to ^^ teething." But if a 
post-mortem exanunation were made, 
would the seat of disease be found in 
the mouth, or in the disordered regions 
of digestion? Granted that the nat- 
ural food difl&greed with the infiuit for 
a time ; granted that the irritation ex- 
tended to the coats of the stomach ; are 
these any reasons why the unoffending 
member should have been loaded with 
a description of food to which it had 
hitherto been unaccustomed? Would 



it not have been better to suffer the 
irritation to subside, to let the stomach 
rest for a while, instead of heaping on 
it double work ? In any case, would 
it not have been safer to wait until 
signs of exhaustion were apparent, or 
traceable to want of better nourish- 
ment? After a few days' watching, 
giving less, instead of more food, the 
appetite would, in all probability, have 

The lesson which these disastrous 
consequences teach us is, never to 
change an infantas food when the erup' 
tion of a tooth may naturally be ex- 

Afler the first four fVont teeth are 
cut the infant should not derive its 
nourishment solely from its mother; 
it should be allowed one or two meals 
a day of milk, thickened with biscuit, 
or corn-flour, or maizena, or well-baked 
bread. It may have a crust or piece 
of biscuit to suck. After the appear- 
ance of the second four teeth next the 
front, the baby should be completely 
weaned, and a small quantity of chick- 
en, veal, or thin mutton broth, or beef- 
tea, or a little bread and ^ravy (the 
juice of meat), or a piece ofT)eef un- 
derdone and juicy, which the child can 
suck, may be allowed occasionally. 
Abundance of good milk must still be 
th^ staple nourishment of the child, 
for nothing else will take its place ef- 
fectually in building up the healthy in- 
fant frame. 

The dietary may become more va- 
ried as the child grows older ; the yolk 
a raw egg occasionally, a little bread 
and meat juice, or well-boiled rice with 
potato, or alone, a little bread and 
butter, or a rusk, to exercise its newly- 
cut teeth upon, may be allowed ; and 
after sixteen to eighteen months a little 
finely-minced or pounded meat inay be 
given every day with the gravy; or 
the meat may be given on alternate 
days to begin with. The tendency at 
this age is for mothers to allow their 
infants to have pickings of everything 
on the table, firom plum-pudding and 
beef-steak to cheese and celery; the 
child has only to cry successively for a 
bit of everything on the table, and it is 
supplied forthwith* 

There are numerous kinds of artil- 
cially prepared foods for infants, all of 
which consist of farinaceous material, 
i. e., starch in some form or other, 
rendered soluble and digestible by some 
process, either of heat or fermentation. 
They are nutritious and useM when 
added to milk or given as a separate 
meal in the form of custard, bat 
they are quite unfitted to repktce mUk, 
An excellent, and perhaps the best of 
all the artificially prepared foods for 
infants, is within the reach of every 
mother or nurse. It is prepared in the 
following manner: — Take the best 
wheat flour in sufficient quantity to 
last for a week, put it dry into a proper 
cloth or bag and tie up closely, and 
boil in the same way as a batter pad- 
ding, for from four to six hours. When 
cold, a sufficient quantity can be grated 
or rubbed down fine and used in a sim- 
ilar way as other prepared foods, by 
the addiition of water with a little milk, 
if need be, with a little salt and re- 
fined sugar, the flour being thus cooked 
a second time during the process of 
making into a very thin gruel. 

The diseases of children are very 
numerous, and some are, at least in 
the present state of sanitary science, 
inevitable ; but a still greater number 
may be prevented by careful attention 
to cleanhness and proper feeding, ven- 
tilation of rooms, and the avoidance 
of exposure to cold and damp. In the 
carrying out of all these necessary con- 
ditions of health, the poor meet with 
far greater difficulties than the ndi; 
difficulties, many of which they cannot, 
unaided, wholly surmount; but it is 
not the less certain that disease 
among the children of even the very 
poor may be much diminished by the 
carefulness of the mothers in carrying 
out, so far as thej are able, the common- 
sense rules of health. 

Children may inherit a tendency to 
many diseases, of which mental dis- 
ease, and scrofulous affections, are the 
most conmion; but we say advisedly 
that they inherit a tendency to these 
diseases, for they can rarely be said to 
inherit the diseases 'themselves, most 
of which do not appear until after the 
period of childhood, and may, by ja- 



dicious foresight and management xA 
the health m childhood, be altogether 
warded off. 

Before proceeding to discuss sepa- 
rately a few of the more common dis- 
eases of infants, we must first state 
that onr principal object in doing so is 
to give such information as may lead 
to the prevention of those diseases 
which are preventible, and to tKe^early 
detection of those which are not ; and 
though we may add such hints on treat- 
ment as may be safely followed by a 
judicious mother or intelligent nurse, 
we purposely abstain from doing more. 
Medical advice must always be ob-' 
tained in serious illness ; and as there 
are no diseases so hopeful to treat, so 
there are none so dangerous to neglect, 
as those of infants and children. 

Thrush is one of the earliest of the 
acquired diseases of children ; it may 
occur at any time after birth. In 
this disease the tongue, throat, and in- 
side of the mouth are covered more 
or less completely with small white 
specks, like minute flakes of milk; 
there is considerable dryness and sore- 
ness of the mouth ; the infant is fret- 
ful, its cry hoarse ; diarrhoea com- 
monly comes on towards the end of 
the attack. This disease is very liable 
to attack weakly infants, but with 
great care may abnost always be pre- 
vented* It commonly supervenes to- 
wards the termination of exhausting 
diseases, and is then often a fatal 
symptom. It is due to a vegetable 
parasite of the i^gus tribe, which is 
developed in any sour milk or sacchar- 
ine substance which may adhere to the 
mouth of a delicate infant, or it may 
find a lodgment in the altered secre- 
tions of the mouth in exhausting dis- 
eases. One of its most fruitful sources 
is the sugar and butter and gruel given 
to the newly-born infcmt; want of 
cleanliness is another common cause. 
In the treatment of this disease, the 
feeding apparatus must be carefully 
looked to, everything coming into con- 
tact with the infants mou& must be 
kept absolutely clean, the%nouth must 
be carefully cleansed after feeding, with 
a moistened cloth, or a teaspooi^ul of 
dean water, or water containing chlo- 

rate of potash (ten grains dissolved in 
an ounce) given after every meal. 
Though a serious malady, thrush is 
barely of itself fatal. 

Diarrhcea- is a very common disease 
among infants. Leaving out of con- 
sideration irritant poisons and epidemic 
influences, it is caused principally by — 
(1) errors in diet; (2) rapid changes 
of temperature; (3) nervous irrita- 
tion — e, g, teething; (4) the subsi- 
dence of an acute disease. The first 
impulse of the mother or nurse is usu- 
ally at once to check the diarrhoea with 
a dose of chalk mixture — this should 
not always be attempted. 

The diet must be always rigidly in- 
spected on the occurrence of diarrhoea. 
The infant may be fed too frequently ; 
there may have been previous irregu- 
larity of the secretions ; the mo^er 
may have taken some article of diet 
which disagrees with the baby; if 
weaned, the milk potay be too heavy, or 
slightly acid ; in these cases there is 
commonly sickness accompanying the 
diarrhoea, and the infant suffers much 
from cramp and flatulence. A prelim- 
inary small dose of castor-oil, a return 
to proper diet, the dilution of the milk 
with one-third or one-half of lime-war 
ter, and warm flannels to the stomach, 
will in these cases very likely restore 
the infant again to comfort ; if not, 
further advice must be sought. 

Diarrhoea from rapid changes of 
temperature may be prevented by flan- 
nel bandages applied to the stomach 
(which are often left off much too 
soon), carefully keeping the feet warm, 
avoiding draughts, and early accus- 
toming the child to daily cool or cold 
sponging. Some children are more 
subject than others to this form of 
diarrhoea ; it is more common in sum- 
mer than in winter, because at this 
time, owing to li^t clothing and 
greater exposure in the open air, chil- 
dren are more subject to cold chills. 
A teaspoonful of chalk mixture, or a 
little peppermint, will usually check it. 
When cholera is prevalent, all cases 
of diarrhoea, even the most trivial, 
should be at once attended to. 

Whilst teething, infants are very 
liable to attacks of diarrhoea; these 



attacks are often very irregular^ severe 
while they last, and perhaps followed 
by constipation; the infant is xxxxxi^ 
distressed with fiatolence, and is very 
fretfVil and feverish. On examining 
the month it is perhaps seen that one 
or more teeth are making their way 
through the gums, giving rise to much 
irritation, causing swelling and heat 
of the gums, a great flow of water 
from the mouth, or in more severe 
cases dryness of the gums and mouth 

In managing the diarrhoea of infants 
who are cutting their teeth, it must be 
borne in mind that, as we have before 
pointed out, the diarrhoea may not, 
and commonly is not, due to the irri- 
tation in the gums alone acting on the 
secretions through the nervous system ; 
the whole alimentary canal of the in- 
fant is at this time in a state of great 
activity; the numerous glands with 
which it is plentifully supplied are 
growing very fast; and consequently 
any little error in diet, so small as 
scarcely to be -avoidable, or any irri- 
tating material in the bowels, may very 
readily give rise to diarrhoea. It is 
oflen advisable, therefore, to give a 
little rhubarb and magnesia, or a small 
dose of castor-oil, before trying directly 
to check the diarrhoea, and this simple 
expedient often suffices to arrest it. 
The opposite plan of immediately giv- 
ing some drug to check the diarrhoea 
is much to be deprecated, since, if the 
secretion be too suddenly stopped, more 
seriouB symptoms, such as bronchitis, 
or inflammation of the lungs, or convul- 
sions, may arise. It is sometimes 
most difficult to improve the disordered 
condition of the bowels in infants while 
teething: a total change in diet, the 
substitution of prepared food for the 
milk, or giving animal food alone in 
the form of finely pounded and pre- 
pared raw meat, may be necessary; 
but in all such cases medical advice is 

In some cases the diarrhoea arising 
from any cause takes on a dysenteric 
character, and the little suflerer is re- 
duced to the lowest possible condition, 
^ which not uncommonly proves fatal, 
and always requires much skill and 

attention, both on the part of the doc- 
tor and nurse, for its successful treat- 

Sometimes, at the end of an attack 
of measles or other acute illness, a 
sharp attack of diarrhoea comes on; 
this should not be hastily checked, as 
it is usually of a salutary character. 

It )s particularly important, on ac- 
couol of the feverishness to which an 
infant is subject during the period of 
teething, to secure it against the cold, 
and especially to keep it out of draughts, 
care being taken at the same time that 
the air is kept pure by proper ventila- 
tion. Childiren during this period are 
very subject to attacks of bronchitis, 
which are often very serious ; they are 
often, too, seized with much * wheez- 
ing ' on the chest, and seem to be about 
to have some very severe chest com- 
plaint ; but the symptoms pass off as 
suddenly as they appear. Restless- 
ness at night is commonly associated 
with the feverishness of teething: a 
warm bath before going to bed is a 
very useful remedy for this ; opiates or 
soothing syrups^ most of whieli contain 
opium, should never be given; the 
slumber they produce in these cases is 
unhealthy and unrefreshing. In Uie 
event of any nervous symptoms aris- 
ing, as sp€ismodic croup, or conyul- 
sions, the infant should immediately 
be placed in a warm bath, and med- 
ical aid should be sent for. 

The tretament of an infant under- 
going the critical process of dentition, 
should consist in strict observance of 
the rules of health. More air, more 
w&ter, more repose, are needed; and 
greater regularity in feeding should be 

Cure of Stammering. — The effectual 
cure mainly depends upon the determinatioQ 
of the sufferer to carry out the following 
rule : Keep the teeth close together, and be- 
fore attempting to speak inspire deeply; 
then give time for quiet utterance, and after 
very slight practice the hesitation will be 
relieved. No spasmodic action of the lower 
jaw must be permitted to separate the teeth 
when speaking. This plan, regularly ca^ 
ried out foofrix months, cured me when 
twenty years old. I was-painfully bad, both 
to myself and to others. Without deter- 
mination to follow out the plan, it is of no 
use attempting it. 




WHETHER our views are mate- 
rialistic or spiritual, we must 
adhere to the priuciple that mental ac- 
tivity is inseparably connected with 
tlie brain. It is the instrument by 
which the soul manifests its activity, 
and, as from an imperfect instrument 
the most skilful performer can produce 
only imperfect music, so the capabilities 
of the mind are dependant upon the 
state of the brain. As in sleep its 
nourishment is considerably lowered 
by the diminished supply of blood, so 
also, as Durham's experiments upon 
sleeping animals, whose skulls he par- 
tially opened, have shown, the arterial, 
that is, the oxygen bearing vessels, are 
more contracted and less abundantly 
filled than in the waking condition, 
and, consequently, the capability of the 
brain is much less. Mental activity is 
reduced to a minimum, and especially 
must all complicated processes, above 
all things the judgment, come to a 
pause. Still our thoughts and ideas 
continue to spin themselves out even 
in sleep, according to the same inde- 
structible law as they do when we are 
awake, but they lack the regulating 
and limiting conduct of the judgment 
and the understanding. This partial 
activity of the brain is to dream. 

The dream is not a dark and inex- 
plicable something of whose origin we 
are ignorant ; it is a product of the 
same brain functV)n which is active in 
our waking state. Our thoughts in 
dreaming depend as much upon the dis- 
sociation of ideas as they do when we 
• are awake. In accordance with this 
law every idea immediately on its rise 
calls up a series of other ideas con- 
nected with it by resemblance of cir- 
cumstance, similarity of sound in the 
words which express it, or agreement 
in the order of time, etc. 

In the waking state the judgment 
always exercises a restraining influ- 
ence upon the play of our fancy, and 
prevents us from joining together the 
unusual and incongruous; but in 
sleep our ideas are associated in the 
lowest manner. When we are awake 
VOL. n.— 15 

one idea foDows another ; but when we 
are asleep,^ several ideas simultane- 
ously present themselves, and, uniting 
together, form themselves into one 
complex whole ; or, from the rapidity 
with which they follow each other, and 
th^ indistinctness of their connection, 
one idea unobserved takes the place of 

In the waking state we can call up 
ideas by an effort of the will. We 
can think of what we wish. This, 
however, is not always the case. Very 
often it happens, as if by accident, that 
ideas spring from the treasure of 
our memory to which we voluntarily 
give further entertainment, or by which 
we are unwillingly led' to other ideas 
distasteful to us. So also in dreams, 
where the voluntary calling up of any 
given idea is impossible, the mind is 
led to involuntary activity by means of 
ideas stored up in the memory. Most 
frequently the first impetus to a series* 
of dream-pictures is given by some 
marked and striking impression which 
has been made upon us during the day, 
or by thoughts which have occupied our 
minds shortly before falling asleep. 
These ideas are ofi;en uninterruptedly 
continued; but not less often we are 
rapidly led to other ideas, and we are 
then unable to detect the connection 
between the two. 

When we are awake the impressions 
of the senses are by far the most pro- 
lific source of mental activity. But 
in sleep, as we have seen, the senses 
have ceased to exercise their functions, 
though still, to a certain extent, capable 
of excitement. Under strong impres- 
sions the senses of hearing and of feel- 
ing are susceptible even in deep sleep, 
but the resulting idea is almost always 
confused, and often an entirely different 
image is presented; just as in the 
twilight we sometimes take the trunk 
of a tree for a man sitting by the way- 
side. The indistinctness of the im- 
pression made upon the senses allows 
the fancy to fill it up in its own colors, 
and so it comes to pass that any ex- 
citement of the sense of hearing or 



feeling in sleep gives occasion for 
dreams, of which only the most gen- 
eral outline originates in external con- 
ditions. There are many examples of 
this on record. Meyer narrates that 
he once dreamed that he was attacked 
by robbers, who laid him full length on 
his back upon the ground, into which 
they drove a stake, passing it between 
two of his toes ; but on awaking he 
found that these two members were 
only separated by a straw I 

Another relates that, having a bot- 
tle of hot water placed at his feet, he 
dreamed that he had reached the top 
of Etna, and was treading on burning 
lava. In a similar manner, if we are 
uneasy in bed and throw off the cover- 
ing, we dream that in the cold of win- 
ter we are wandering half-clad through 
the streets ; or, if there is a strong 
wind blowing, we dream of storms and 
shipwreck ; or a knocking at the door 
produces dreams of an attack by 
thieves. It is very seldom that words 
spoken in sleep are distinctly under- 
•stood, and equally seldom that they 
call up in the mind of the sleeper the 
idea diey represent. I may mention 
an instance or two in which dreams 
could be controlled in this way. Dr. 
Abercrombie relates that an English 
officer who accompanied the expedi- 
tion to Ludwigsburg in 1758 dreamed, 
to the great delight of his comrades, 
any kind of dream they chose, "accord- 
ing to the words they whispered in his 
ear. Another example is given by 
EUuge : a rejected lover, who .had se- 
cured the favor of the lady's mother, 
obtained permission to whisper his 
name in her ear while she slept. Very 
soon there was a remarkable change 
in her conduct towards him, and at 
last she gave him her hand. On being 
questioned about the change, she re- 
plied that she had become attached to 
him, in vivid and oft repeated dreams. 
For the truth of this story we cannot 
vouch ; at the same time we do not 
deny its probability. 

The excitement of the internal sus- 
ceptibilities gives occasion for dreams 
almost more frequently than the exter- 
nal senses. By internal susceptibilities 
I mean Ihose isensations which indi- 

cate to us the position of our internal 
organs, and which are usually known 
as general feelings, and to which be- 
long the condition of being well and 
unwell. These sensations come within 
our consciousness during sleep, but, as 
might be expected, darkly and indis- 
tinctly. Connected with them in a 
similar manner as with the impressions 
of the e^ptemal senses, are certain sym- 
bolic dream-pictures, the most common 
of which is nightmare. This origin- 
ates in a cramped condition of the res- 
piratory muscles, and a consequent 
difficulty of breathing. Similar results 
will follow if the stomach he over- 
loaded, for it then presses upon the 
diaphragm, and thereby confines the 
lungs. When we are awake we trace 
this disordered respiration to its cor- 
rect cause — namely, a local affection 
of the organs of the chest, and there 
it ends ; but in sleep we are incapable 
of this reasoning, and therefore, in har- 
mony with the law of association, there 
arises from the feeling of oppression 
the idea of weight and the image of 
a superincumbent object. We also 
dream of heavily laden wagons pass- 
ing over us, or of dark, shadowy ap- 
paritions emerging from the ceiling 
and gradually settling down upon us. 

Not unfrequently we find that, in- 
stead of this, we dream of some great 
trouble, or sudden fright, for in the 
waking state experiences oHen render 
respiration difficult. We then dream, 
for example, that we are attacked by 
robbers ; and when we endeavor to se- 
cure our safety by ffight, we find, to 
our consternation, that our feet refuse 
to serve us, and we remain, as it were, 
rooted to the ground. We try to call 
for help, but find that we are unable to 
produce a single sound, until at last, 
after long struggling, the muscles of 
respiration are released from their re- 
straint, and we awake — sometimes 
with a loud cry. 

In a similar manner is experienced 
the dream of falling from a great 
height* It usually happens while we 
are falling asleep, and depends upon 
the circumstance that the gradual re- 
laxing of the muscles caused by sleep 
is, by some momentary excitement, re- 



versed, and the result is a shrinking 
back of the body similar to that expe- 
rienced in falling from any lofty posi- 
tion. Somewhat different from this is 
the dream of flying. According to 
Schemer it depends upon our conscious- 
ness of the action of the lungs, their 
rising and falling motion giving to us 
in our dream the notion of flight. 
There are a great many more condi- 
tions of the body which, if they come 
into our consciousness during sleep, 
awake in us, in harmony with the law 
of the association of ideas, a certain 
kind of dreams. The emotions also 
produce a definite impressioH upon 
their character. " Great joy," some 
one has written, ^^ originates a difier- 
ent class of dreams than great sorrow ; 
and ardent love gives rise to dreams 
not produced by hatred, deep repent- 
ance, or an accusing conscience." 

If we accustom ourselves attentively 
to notice our dreams, we shall easily 
perceive the confirmation of the law 
laid down. But we shall also find 
that it is exceedingly difficult to repro- 
duce .a dream correctly. It is so for 
two reasons. The imagery of dreams, 
in by far the greater number of cases, 
is so indistinct and shadowy, and in 
its particulars so inadequate, that by 
the effort to recall them, we involun- 
tarily bring to our help the imagina- 
tive power of our waking moments, 
and thereby give to them definite color 
and outline. The other reason is, the 
innate tendency of the human mind to 
look at all things in their logical con- 
nections. When our dreams consist 
of a series of pictures, often connected 
only by the very loose bond of the as- 
sociation of ideas, we bring to them 
by their reproduction, unintentionally, 
of course, a logical connection and 
correspondence with the real life which 
originally they did not possess. 

During the period of deepest sleep 
the function of the brain is so weak- 
ened that we retain no recollection of 
it, and sound sleep has, therefore, come 
to be called a dreamless sleep. Some- 
times we know that we have dreamed, 
but are wholly unable to recall a single 
trace of that which has engaged our 
sleeping thoughts. But shortly before 

we awake, when the oxygen stored up 
in the blood corpuscles begins to bring 
the process of waste and repair in the 
brain into more energetic operation, 
our dreams become more lively and 
connected, and, for this reason, are 
mere easily retained by the memory. 
The' cases are very few in which 
dreams are so vivid that we are unable 
to distinguish them from reisd events. 
Professor Jessen, a celebrated physi- 
cian to the insane, gives a striking ex- 
example, in the following words : 

" One winter morning, between the 
hours of five and six, I was awoke, as 
I believed, by the head keeper, who in- 
formed me that the friends of a patient 
had come to remove him, and at the 
same time he inquired whether any- 
thing required mention. I replied that 
he might permit the patient to depart, 
and inmiediately lay down again to 
sleep. I had no sooner done this than 
it occurred to me that of the intended 
removal of this patient I had heard 
nothing, but that it was of the depar- 
ture of a woman of the same name I 
had been advised. I was compelled, 
therefore, to seek further information, 
and, having hastily dressed myself, 
I went to the dwelling of the keeper, 
whom, to my astonishment, I found 
only half clad. Upon my asking him 
where the people were who had come 
to fetch away the patient, he replied, 
with surprise depicted in his counte- 
nance, that he knew nothing of it, for 
he had only just risen, and had seen no 
one. J*his reply did not undeceive me, 
and I rejoined that it must have been 
the steward who had visited me, and I 
would go to him ; but as I was de- 
scending the steps which led to his . 
house it struck me that the whole af- 
fair was a dream — a fact, however, 
which I had not until that moment 

This example is particularly inter- 
esting from the length of time which 
elapsed after the professor awoke, and 
during which he had been thoroughly 
aroused by the act of dressing and 
going to the* keeper^ yet the delusion 
which regarded the dream as a reality 
continued, and at last, without any ap- 
parent cause, suddenly vanished. 



Proportionately more frequent are 
the cases where the awaking is imper- 
fect, but still sufficient to induce a 
course of action corresponding with 
the supposed realities of the dream. 
There are instances on record where 
people, .deceived by the alarming«im- 
agery of a dream, have committed acts 
of violence for which they could not 
be considered responsible. 

An interesting example of insubordi- 
nation during heavy sleep is related by 
Biichner, in Henke's Journal of Med- 
ical Jurisprudence : 

" Christian Junger, a soldier of the 
guards, two and twenty years of age, 
and who had been three years in the 
army, a man of good character, fell 
asleep about noon upon a bench in 
the guard-house. The corporal en- 
deavored to awake him, in order to 
sweep out the room. Junger arose, 
and, without saying a word, seized the 
corporal by the breast, then drew his 
sabre and made an attack, which the 
corporal succeeded in parrying. He 
repeated the attempt, however, and did 
not desist until disarmed and arrested 
by the soldiers present; he then sat 
down quietly upon the bench. On the 
preceding day, and on the morning of 
the deed, he had kept guard at an ex- 
ceedingly cold and exposed situation ; 
the intervening night he had spent in 
playing at cards, but had drunk little, 
and in the morning, from sheer weari- 
ness, he fell asleep in the heated guard- 
house. On the examination it ap- 
peared that he dreamed he lyas on 
guard, when a fellow seized him by 
the hair, and took his rifle, upon which 
he drew his sabre and made an attack 
upon him. Of that which really passed 
he knew nothing. He could not under- 
stand that he, who had always been 
obedient to his superiors, should have 
been guilty of insubordination. The 
medical evidence showed it to be a case 
of * sleep-drunkenness,' and he was ac- 

In explanation of this case some- 
thing further may be said. Similar 
results might be brought about by toil 
of any kind; but here, by keeping 
guard, and the consequent excessive 
exhaustion, the deficiency of oxygen 

was brought to an abnormal height, 
and the small quantity taken in during 
the short sleep was not sufficient to 
restore the brain to its full activity. 

From an article in ** Chemiti and DruggiA^^ 
by Ewala Hecker, 


Infant Prodigies, who can repeat 
" Young's Night Thoughts " without a 
blunder, or tell the distance between 
Jupiter and the earth without misquot- 
ing a cipher, are not to be encouraged 
in these feats of mental agility, bat 
should rather be taught the use of the 
skipping rope, or indulge in the abandon 
of a game at bat, trap, and ball. We 
see that mental precocity is only the too 
sure sign of cerebral disease ; and if 
parents are foolish enough in their pride 
of these infant prodigies to foster this 
precocity, they are acting the part of 
literary medeas ; killing their ofi^ring 
more slowly, but no less surely. 

Abernethy's Dislike to Unneces- 
sary Taijc. — People who came to con- 
sult this eccentric man took care not to 
offend him by bootless prating. A lady 
on one occasion entered his consdltiog- 
room, and put before him an injured fin- 
ger, without saying a word. In silence 
Abernethy dressed the wound, when 
instantly and silently the lady put the 
usual fee on the table and retired. Iri* 
a f&w days she called again, and of- 
fered her finger for inspection. *' Bet- 
ter?" asked the surgeon. ''Better," 
answered the lady, speaking to him 
for the first time. Not another word 
followed during the rest of the inter- 
view. Three or four similar visits 
were made, at the last of which the 
patient held out her finger free from ban- 
dages and perfectly healed. " Well?" 
was Abernethy's monosyllabic inquiry. 
" Well," was the lady's equally brief 
answer. "Upon my soul, madam," 
exclaimed the delighted surgeon, "yoit 
are the most rational woman lever met 
with" — Jeaffreson*s Book aboui Doc- 

Hair-Dye. — It is asserted that eight 
per cent, of the lunatics in Charenton 
Asylum, France, are victims to the use 
of hair-iiye. 

Good Health : A Journal of Physioal and Mental OnHnro. 


TELE singular gas termed ozone has 
recently attracted a large amount 
of attention from chemists and meteor- 
ologists. The vague ideas which were 
formed as to its nature when as yet it 
had been but newly discovered, have 
given place gradually to more definite 
views ; and though we cannot be said 
to have thoroughly mastered all the 
difficulties which this strange element 
presents, yet we know already much 
that is interesting and instructive. 

We recognize in ozone a sort of 
concentrated oxygen, with this peculiar 
property, that it possesses an extraor- 
dinary readiness to part with its char- 
acteristic third atom, and so disappear 
as ozoncj two-thirds of its weight re- 
maining as oxygen. 

It is to this peculiarity that ozone 
owes the properties which render it so 
important to our welfare. We are in- 
deed, as yet, in no position to theorize 
respecting this element, our knowledge 
of its very existence being so recent, 
and our information respecting its pre- 
sence in our atmosphere being of still 
more recent acquisition. 

Indeed, it is well remarked by Mr. 
Heaton, that we had, until quite lately, 
no reason for confidently adopting 
Schonbein's view that ozone exists in 
our atmosphere. The test-papers which 
Schonbein made use of turned blue 
under the influence of ozone, it is true, 
but. they were similarly influenced by 
other elements which are known to ex- 
ist in our atmosphere, and even the 
sun's rays turned them blue. How- 
ever, Dr. Andrews has shown how the 
character of the air producing the 
change can be further tested, so as to 
render it certain that ozone only has 
been at work. If air which colors the 
test-papers be found to lose the property 
after being heated, the change can only 
be due to ozone, because nitrous and 
nitric acid (which have the power of 
coloring the test-papers) would not be 
removed by the heat, whereas ozone is 
changed by heat into oxygen. 


Once we are certain that ozone exists 
in tJle air, we must recognize the fact 
that its presence cannot fail to have an 
important bearing on our health and 
comfort; for ozone is an exceedingly 
active agent, and cannot exist any- 
where without setting busily to its own 
proper work. What that work is, and 
whether it is beneficial or deleterious 
to ourselves, remains to be considered. 

In the first place, ozone has immense 
power as a disinfectant. It decom- 
poses the products emanating from 
putrifying matter more effectually than 
any other known element. Perhaps 
the most striking proof ever given of 
its qualities in this respect is that af- 
forded by an experiment conducted by 
Dr. Richardson a few years ago. 

He placed a pint of blood taken from 
an ox in a large wide-mouthed bottle. 
The blood had then coagulated, and it 
was left exposed to the air until it had 
become entirely redissolved by the ef- 
fects of decomposition. At the end 
of a year the blood was put in a stop- 
pered bottle, and set aside for seven 
years. "The bottle was then taken 
from its hiding-place," says Dr. Rich- 
ardson, " and an ounce of the blood 
was withdrawn. The fluid was so of- 
fensive as to produce nausea when the 
gases evolved from it were inhaled. 
It was subjected by Dr. Wood and 
myself to a current of ozone. For a 
few minutes the odor of ozone was de- 
stroyed by the odor of the gases from 
the blood ; gradually the offensive smell 
passed away ; then the fluid mass be- 
came quite sweet, and at last a faint 
odor of ozone was detected, whereupon 
the current was stopped. The blood 
was thus entirely deodorized ; but an- 
other and most singular phenomenon 
was observed. The dead blood coag- 
ulated as the products of .decomposi- 
tion were removed, and this so perfectly, 
that from the new clot that was formed 
serum exuded. Before the experi- 
ment commenced, I had predicted on 
theoretical grounds that secondary co- 



agulation would follow on purification ; 
and this experiment, as well as several 
otliers afterwards performed, verified 
the truth of the prediction." 

It will of course be understood that 
ozone in thus acting as a disinfectant 
is transformed into oxygen. It parts 
with its third atom as in the mercury 
experiment, and thus loses its distinct- 
ive peculiarity. Thus we might be led 
to anticipate the results which come 
next to be considered. 

Ozone has certain work to do, and 
in doing that work is transmuted into 
oxygen. It follows, then, that where 
there has been much work for ozone 
to do, there we shall find little ozone 
left in the air. Hence, in open spaces 
where there is little decomposing mat^ 
ter, we should expect to find more 
ozone than in towns or cities. This 
accords with what is actually observed. 
And not only is it found that country 
air contains more ozone than town air, 
but it is foimd that air which has come 
from the sea has more ozone than even 
the country air, while air in the 
crowded parts of large cities has no 
ozone at aJl, nor has the air of inhabited 

So far as we have gone, we might 
be disposed to speak unhesitatingly in 
favor of the efibcts produced by ozone. 
We see it purifying the air which 
would otherwise be loaded by the pro- 
ducts of decomposing matter, we find 
it present in the sea-air and the country 
air, which we know to be so bracins: 
and health-restoring after a long resi- 
dence in town, and we find it absent 
just in those places^ which we look 
upon as most unhealthy. 

Again, we find further evidence of 
the good efiects of ozone in the fact 
that cholera and other epidemics never 
make their dreaded appearance in the 
land when the air is well supplied with 
ozone — or in what the meteorologists 
call " the ozone-periods." And though 
we cannot yet explain the circumstance 
quite satisfactorily, we yet seem jus- 
tified in ascribing to the purifying and 
disinfecting qualities of ozone our free- 
dom at those times from epidemics to 
which cleanliness and good sanitary 
regulations are notedly inimical. 

But there is a reverse side to the 
picture. And as we described an ex- 
periment illustrating the disinfecting 
qualities of ozone before describing the 
good efiects of the element, we shall 
describe an experiment illustrating cer- 
tain less pleasing qualities of ozone, 
before discussing the deleterious influ- 
ences which it seems capable of exert- 

Dr. Richardson found that when the 
air of a room was so loaded with ozone 
as to be only respirable with difficulty, 
animals placed in the room were af- 
fected in a very singular manner. " In 
the first place," he says, " all the symp- 
toms of nasal catarrh and of irritation 
of the mucous membranes of the nose, 
the mouth, and the throat were rapidly 
induced. Then followed free secretion 
of saliva and profuse actiqA of the skin 
— perspiration. The breathing was 
greatly quickened, and the action of 
the heart increased in proportion.** 
When the animals were sufiered to re- 
main yet longer within the room, con- 
gestion of the lungs followed, and the 
disease called by physicians " congestr 
ive bronchitis " was set up. 

A very singular circumstance was 
noticed also as to the efiects of ozone 
on the difierent orders of animals. 
The above-mentioned efiects, and oth-. 
ers which accompanied them, the de- 
scription of which would be out of 
place in these pages, were developed 
more freely in carnivorous than in her- 
bivorous animals. Rats, for example, 
were much more easily infiuenced by 
ozone than rabbits were. 

The results of Dr. Richardson's ex- 
periments prepare us to hear that 
ozone-periods, though characterized by 
the absence of certain diseases, bring 
with them their own forms of disease. 
Apoplexy, epilepsy, and other similar 
diseases seem peculiarly associated 
with the ozone-periods, insomuch that 
eighty per cent, of the deaths occurring 
from them take place on days when 
ozone is present in the air in larger 
quantities than usual. Catarrh, influ- 
enza, and afiections of the bronchial 
tubes, also afiect the ozone-periods. 

We see, then, that we have yet 
much to learn respecting ozone before 



23 1 

we can pronounce definitively whether 
it is more to be welcomed or dreaded. 
We mast wait until the researches 
which are in progress have been car- 

ried out to their conclusion, and per- 
"haps even then further modes of inquiry 
will have to be pursued before we can 
form a definite opinion. 


CHANGE of scene is what you 
need." " With all my heart I I 
have no' objection to that prescription ; 
but I prefer taking it here, at my own 

The doctor stared. I went on — 

" Why should I, — something of an 
invalid, little inclined for exertion of 
any sort, surrounded by home com- 
forts, and, what is more, thoroughly 
appreciating them, — why, I say, 
should I undergo the worry of packing 
op, or the fatigue of an ordinary jour- 
ney, when one moment, one effort of 
the imagination, will suffice to trans- 
' port me to any part, already familiar 
to me, of the habitable globe ; and, 
take it all in all, I have been some- 
thing of a traveller? Do you recom- 
mend a warm climate? What say 
you to Rome, or Naples ? I am ready 
to follow your advice ; but it must be 
here, in this arm-chair, in my own 
study, and by the blaze of the same 
fire that has seen me swallow your 
other prescriptions, — those little rose 
or saffron-colored draughts, which 
work, of course, such wonders. I will 
take my change of scene here, also, 
if you please." 

The doctor, staring still, lingered, 
hat in hand, to repeat once more before 
he left me, — 

*' Run over to Paris for a week or 
two : change is what you need." 

I watched him walk down the gar- 
den to the little gate, where his gig 
stood waiting ;- I noticed that the doc- 
tor buttoned his great-coat across his 
chest, and that ho scowled up at the 
sky, as the best of people will scowl 
in the face of an east wind ; for the 
season was spring. What were the 
poets about that they could sing its 
praises? Or was the world really 
young once, and is it young again 
once in a lifetime to us all? To pro- 
aue people Hke myself, spring does 

not suggest the idea of youth, there 
being a prevailing chill and bitterness 
about it which are apt to make one 
feel prematurely old. 

The doctor having departed, I pre- 
pared at once to obey him. The sky 
was full of clouds hurrying before the 
wind ; the very sunshine looked cold. 
Surely, in our variable climate, we 
possess one advantage calculated to 
make us the best travellers in the 
world, — it ought to be hard for any 
other climate to take our constitutions 
by surprise, — without leaving the 
shores of this eccentric land, we gradu- 
ally become acclimatized to them all. 
Last summer, although it was one of 
the coldest on record, there were two 
or three days which must have been 
good training for the tropics, — days 
when men from India complained that 
they had rarely felt it hotter in Cal- 
cutta, — a statement probably suggested 
by the fact that here they had no 
punkahs ; and this very morning, al- 
though my room is redolent of the 
scent of violets, gathered but two days 
ago, there is snow upon the ground, 
and my fingers stiffen as I hold the 

It is worthy of passing remark, too, 
that foreigners do rarely becoifae rec- 
onciled to a long residence. The Ital- 
ian will never cease to mourn for the 
warmth of his native sun, the French- 
man to sigh for his clearer atmos- 
phere ; even our German brothers com- 
plain- bitterly ; and as for natives of 
the tropics, or unfortunate specimens 
of humanity from the Arctic circle, 
they simply die. But we can live any- 
where ; doubtless, all owing to the 
sudden changes of temperature to 
which from infancy we are accustomed. 
Two days ago, open windows, sun- 
shine, violets ; at this moment, a blaze 
upon the hearth and east wind I 

But now for the doctor's prescrip- 



tion. I think I will betake myself to 
cities, delaying only long enough to fix 
upon the one whose character best cor- 
responds with my present mood. Every 
city has an individual character of its 
own, of which we feel the influence, — 
a something stamping its impress on 
the outward aspect exactly as the dis- 
position or the predominant passions 
stamp their likeness on a man's fea- 

To convey the idea of excitement, 
there is no city * comparable to Paris. 
She stands alone. Who that knows 
her cannot see the character of the 
French people personified, as it were, 
in their capital? Gay, intoxicating, 
bewitching, fickle Paris I And is not 
Florence pleasure? Brussels is a 
pleasant vision, with her boulevards, 
her park, her quite sufficiently brilliant 
society, — a vision of a gay, sociable, 
altogether smiling place ; but the col- 
ors are to some degree toned down, 
perhaps, by the Flemish school of paint- 
ing, or by the sober glories of St, 

But Florence the Beautiful, lying in 
the enchanting Val d'Amo, nestling 
amongst the flowers, while the " pur- 
ple Apennines " stand round guarding 
her soft beauty, is she not the fitting 
image of some lovely lady who troubles 
herself in this work-a-day world no 
more than do tlie lilies of the field, 
whose vocation it is simply to look 
lovely, to please' and be pleased? She 
is garlanded with flowers, crowned 
wit£ them, decked out with living jew- 
els. Passing through her flowery sub- 
urbs, the eye lingers on the outline of 
the largest dome in the world -*- itself 
the dome of St. Maria dei Fiore. 

I do not for an instant mean to dis- 
parage the arts and industries of 
Florence, — this city where Giotto's 
Campanile points to heaven, and wliere 
the gates of the Baptistry of St. John 
might be "gates of Paradise"; still 
less would I ignore the history of a 
town where certainly, at one time, 
every citizen was a politician, — the 
town of the Medici, birthplace of Dante, 
and whose streets were trodden by 
Savonarola. But it is always my habit 
on first visiting a city to take, if pos* 

sible, from some eminence a bird's-eye 
view, then wander iunongst its streets 
and squares, and mark what manner 
of spirit it is of, — not what the people 
are about, or what spirit possesses 
tAem, but only of what the outward 
aspect of the place itself is, to my im- 
agination, the embodiment* 

Naples contrasts while harmonizing 
with Florence. Pleasure reigns su- 
preme on the Chiaja, among the orange 
groves, in the whole bay over which 
Vesuvius stands sentinel ; but here 
there is a languid leisure for which the 
Tuscan capital is too bright ; here our 
lovely lady, reclining on the shore of 
the tideless sea, is somewhat enervated 
by her devotion to pleasure : she in- 
dulges in a luxury of idleness. Heaven 
knows, the Neapolitans are energetic 
enough! exhaustingly so. Their harsh 
(7Ae, cAe, hurts the ears attuned to the 
mubical lingua Toscana in bocca Bo- 
mana. It is not of the NeapoHtans, 
however, that I am speaking, but of 
Naples. Naples, as I have seen her 
from the orange gardens of Sorrento, 
— a fair, sleepy city ; a lazy column 
of smoke ascending from Vesuvius; 
lazy white sails seeming scarcely to 
move as they float over the blue bay ; 
idleness brooding over everything, es- 
pecially over the lazzaroni lying on the 
shore, — molto macaroni^ and very little 
to do for it, being with them a fixed 
principle of life. 

Apropos of macaroni, I once heard 
of a school-room manual of geography 
which professed, after describing vari- 
ous countries, to give a description of 
their inhabitants also. Under the head 
of " Manners and Customs," the char- 
acteristics of the people of Italy were 
thus summed up: ^^The Italians eaJt 
macaroni and are revengeful I " 

All beauty is melancholy, and G^noa 
is beautiful exceedingly. To me she 
represents the poetry of Borrow. 
Through the steep, narrow streets, — 
streets of marble palaces whose glory 
is departed, — the figures of white- 
veiled women flit. There is a mysteri- 
ous gloom over the city, as though she 
herself were also veiled ; the harbor is 
crowded with shippiAg, through which 
our little boat with difficulty finds iis 



way tot the open water beyond; the 
Sim is setting, but one wonderful rock 
has gathered all the sunset colors to 
itself, and stands strangely glowing 
i^alnst the sky. Above the town are 
hills, stem and rocky; they seem to 
throw the shadoV of a past grief upon 
the place, and to whisper of trouble 
yet to come ; the sea, answering, mur- 
murs of sorrow also. 

'The melancholy of Siena, on the 
other hand, is purely religious. I 
speak of " my " Siena, not knowing 
what Uiat of other people may resem- 
ble. In mine, the sa(^ rain falls ; it is 
Holy Friday, and the cathedral, inlaid 
with black marble outside, is hung in- 
side with black also, draped in black. 
The wondrous pavement, unique in its 
gray tints upon pure white, harmonizes 
with all else to-day ; there is no sofind 
bat that of the falling rain and the 
hashed tread of footsteps as the wor- 
shippers throng to kiss the great cruci- 
fix. The streets are as sombre and 
silent as the church ; in them, also, there 
is no sound but the falling rain and 
the tread of passing feet moving 
through all the town towards the cruci- 
fix. The chief characteristic of the 
Sienese school of art is deep religious 
feeling ; and the spirit of " my" Siena 
is religious sorrow ; it is as though it 
were always Holy Friday there, or as 
though nowhere else could that day be 
fitly kept. 

Yet, strange to say, the Piazzo del 
Campo recalls to my mind — of all 
places in the world — Frankfort, whose 
spirit is neither religion nor sorrow, 
but simple gravity ; and this in spite 
of guide-books and manuals of geogra- 
phy, which, from my youth upwards, 
have informed me that it is ^' one of 
the liveliest of the free cities of Grer- 
miany." "My" Frankfort is not 
*' lively," and nowadays she is no 
longer free. I can fancy that she re- 
gards Prussia and the occurrences of 
the swift campaign of 1866, not with 
excitement or rage, but with a grave 
displeasure. A town whose principal 
business is banking or jobbing in the 
funds, how can it be " lively" ? Were 
the Rothschilds merry in the cradle ? 
The band plays in the garden on the 

river-side, but gravity is there too : on 
the anxious brows of stock-jobbing men ; 
on the contented faces of their sober 
wives ; on the calculating countenances 
of many Jews. Very grave is the 
V old " town, with narrow streets and 
quaint wooden gables ; grave, too, is 
the town-house, and the thoughts sug- 
gested by the in no way remarkable 
portraits of the emperors which adorn 
its walls. Francis of Austria fiUs up 
the last space. What would they have 
done if others of the German line had 
reigned over free Frankfort later? 
One's thoughts fly to St. Paolo, beyond 
the walls, at Rome, where the portrait 
.of Pius IX. fills up the last space 
amongst the medallions of the Popes. 
With Francis of Austria the German 
line of emperors ceased : there are not 
wanting those who whisper that with 
Pius IX. the priest-kings will end, — 
that the temporal power of Rome will 
not long survive him. 

Ulm, too, is grave, but with a soft-, 
ened gravity of her own. Less business- 
like than Frankfort, the present does 
not so entirely monopolize the atten- 
tion ; there is time for a quiet thought 
of old days when the arts of-* civiliza- 
tion began to flourish here amongst 
the worthy burghers, although the no- 
bles in the country round about were 
scarcely to be called civilized. I was 
once lost in Ulm. It was by night ; the 
moonbeams were broken into gleaming 
fragments by the river's current ; the 
stars shone ; few people were stirring 
in the quiet streets, and I fancied that 
those I did meet — passing hastily 
along and speaking in low voices to 
each other as diey went — conversed 
of some deadly ^ud between two noble 
houses, or of the Aulic Council, or the 
latest robbery of rich merchants by 
lawless barons. Finding myself in 
the public gardens, empty and silent 
now, and noticing a group of men en- 
gaged in eager talk, while two shad- 
owy figures crossed the open space 
with rapid steps, methought they spoke 
of Theurdank; or whispered of the 
Turks, and dear friends captive among 
the infidels. Two girls, standing on 
the bridge in, the moonlight, pointed 
across the water, away towards the 



open oountry. They shivered. Were 
thej thinking of the LandsJcnechten^ 
and the treatment to be expected at 
their hands should they venture beyond 
the gates? I was half sorry to find 
myself again, which I did, in the mod- 
em inn near the railway station ; and 
to awake to the remembrance that this 
is the nineteenth century, and Ulm as 
safe and prosaic as any other German 

Ferrara is regret. Grass grows in 
her broad streets ; her palaces are 
ruins ; her seveq miles of wall enclose 
DOW only a dwindled population ; the 
people shrink together, crowd towards 
the centre of the city, and are but 
thinly scattered on the outskirts- Tas- 
so's gran donna del Po is deserted by 
her many lovers; fondly she laments 
her princes of the house of Este. The 
present is nothing to her ; her life is 
in the past. 

To return to Germany. Grand old 
Heidelberg is also the image of one 
who has suffered, and whose glory is 
in the past; but Heidelberg is by no 
means melancholy — perhaps the spark- 
ling, foaming Neckar has prevented that, 
and kept her cheerful ; moreover, her 
sufferings were not from desertion, but 
from good hard blows in the wear and 
tear of life, from siege and fire ; there- 
fore it is that she personifies, not regret, 
but courage — courage triumphant over 
misfortune — or the beautiful evening 
of a stormy day. I think I will go 
thither. Standing on the castle ter- 
race, one could pass an hour pleasantly 
enough, pondering of the Thirty Years/ 
War, and how it thrust poor Germany 
far more than thirty j^ars behind the 
rest of Europe ; and with what plod- 
ding patience she has striven to regain 
her place in the march of nations — 
the damage being now at last repaired^ 
strength and energy only now re- 
covered. And, standing there, one 
might watch the dash and sparkle of 
Neckar down below, and the cloud- 
shadows chasing each other over the 
wooded heights, just as they chased 
each other all those three days when 
the ferocius Tilly gave up the town to 
be sacked — nature then, as now, 
troubling herself not at all for man's 

anguish, or for such trifles as fire and 
sword. But it was later than the 
Thirty Years' War, and at the hands 
of France, that Heidelberg suffered the 
worst, and by the French that the 
castle was finally destroyed — rendered 
uninhabitable, that is to say — des- 
troyed as a Court Besidenz, but left the 
very pride of castles and paradise of 
tourists. The inhabitants of the town 
may be forgiven if they idolize their 
noble ruin — I wonder whether they 
do, by the way, or whether they leave 
it to strangers to appreciate fully the 
majestic pile, and the beauty of Neck- 
ar's banks? 

But it is time that I betook myself in 
good earnest to my prescription ; and, 
perhaps, leisure would suit best with 
my present idle mood — the perfection 
of leisure in a gondola at Venice. How 
can one be hurried at Venice ? In the 
golden evening air, the gay crowd loit- 
ers in the Piazzo San Marco ; people 
sit idly outside the cafe — world-famed 
Florian's; the pigeons of St. Mark 
flutter fearless about our feet ; in the 
streets is heard that indescribable rush 
and tramp of feet, the sound unbroken 
by roll of wheel or tread of horses ; the 
gondola glides softly through the canals. 
It is all full of leisure, dream-like, un- 
real ; the world is forgotten. We — 
being at Venice — pause in the stir of 
life, float on the waters of our fate, even 
as our gondola floats on those of the 
Grand Canal ; we wait, lingering on 
the Bialto, or the Bridge of Sighs, and 
there is no hurry anywhere. Time 
enough to work when we are once more 
in the world ; here, in the " Dream 
City," there is leisure. I have said, 
too, that it is spring ; the clouds, scud- 
ding across the actually present sky, 
vanish;* for at Venice in spring the 
sky is clear and unclouded. The canals 
are clear, too, and fresh, for the storms 
of winter have agitated and purified 
them ; flowers bloom in the balconies, 
and there are, as yet, no mosquitoes. 
Decidedly, in this fireside travelling, 
I will betake tnyself to Venice. 

As I arrive at this conclusion, I fancy 
that I can hear once more the far fiH>m 
briUiant remark so oft^n uttered by a 
friend who once floated through the 



canals with me. He could not get over 
the unwonted silence of the streets, the 
hashed sound of footsteps in them ; at 
each turn his head was protruded from 
the gondola, he never wearied of ex- 
claiming — 

" Not a carriage to be seen I Upon 
mj word, not a carriage to be seen ! " 

The novelty never ceased for him. 
We were there a fortnight, but he said 
it every day. 


IT is only within the present century that 
the branch of optical science called 
«* spectrum analysis ** has been called 
into existence; and it is only within the 
last twelve jears that it has really assumed 
a definite scientific shape. 

Within this brief period spectrum analy- 
sis has enabled us to discover, not only nu- 
merous sources of known elements which 
before were considered very rare, but four 
entirely new elements — namely, caesium, 
rubidium, thallium, and indium. It has 
also enabled us to discover to a great ex- 
tent the nature of the elements composing 
the sun, fixed stars, comets, and nebulsB. 

A glass prism^ as almost everybody 
knows, is a triangular piece of glass, such 
as may be seen attached to lamps and chan- 
deliers. If a beam of sunlight be idlowed 
to fall on one side of this triangular piece 
of glass, the light will pass through one of 
the other sides ; and if, after it is through, 
the light be received on a screen, wall, 
board, or any flat surface placed a few feet 
— say six or eight, or more — behind the 
prism, a band of rainbow colors will be seen 
on the screen, wall, or other surface upon 
which it may be received. This band of col- 
ors is called a spectrum, which is composed 
of the seven difi*erent colors of the rainbow 
— namely : red, orange, yellow, green, blue, 
indigo, and violet — and arranged precisely 
in the same order as in the rainbow. The 
spectrum becomes longer and longer, the 
farther the surface upon which it may be 
received is renloved from the prism. This 
increase of length is owing to the prism 
having the power, not only of producing the 
seven colored Ughts from sunlight, but of 
bending — or refracting, as it is more gen- 
erally called — the blue light much more 
than the red light. Across the spectrum, 
dark Unes are found to exist at certain dis- 
tances apart, somewhat like the rounds in 
a pencil sketch of a common ladder. It is 
by these we have been enabled to make all 
the discoveries attributable to spectrum 

The spectral lines are rarely seen with 
the naked eye ; up to a comparatively re- 
cent period they had been observed gener- 
ally by means of a common telescope, 
which magnified eight or ten times; now 
they are observed by instruments, specially 
designed for the purpose, called spectro- 

It may be well to state, for the informa- 
tion of those who may not be acquainted 
with optical terms, that the refrcLcting an- 
gle of a prism means the angle formed by 
any two of the sides through which the 
light enters and leaves the prism. 

On account of their distinctness, and 
the facility with which they may be found, 
Fraunhofer distinguished seven of the 
spectral lines by the seven Roman capital 
letters, b, c, d, k, f, o, and h. Other 
lines less prominent were distinguished by 
other Boman and Italic letters. Of the 
seven principal spectral lines, b and o are 
in the red, n is in the orange, b in the 
green, f in the blue, g in the indigo, and h 
in the violet. Fraunhofer also examined 
the spectra formed by the planets and some 
of the brightest of the fixed stars. The 
spectral lines of the planets, in so far as he 
was able to observe, were found to be iden- 
tical with the lines of the solar spectrum. 

In a paper " On the Prismatic Decom- 
position of the Electric Light," read by 
Wheatstone before the meeting of the Brit- 
ish Association for the Advancement of 
Science, held in Dublin in 1835, it was 
shown: 1st. That the spectrum of the 
electro-magnetic spark taken from mercury 
consists of seven definite rays only, sepa- 
rated by dark intervals from each other; 
these visible rays are — two orange^ lines 
close together, a bright green line^ two 
bluish-green lines near each other, a very 
bright purple line, and lastly, a violet one. 
The observations were made with a tele- 
scope furnished with ^ measuring appara- 
tus ; and to insure the appearance of the 
spark invariably in the same position, an 
appropriate modification of the electro- 
magnet was employed. 2d. The spark 
taken in the same manner firom zinc, cad- 
mium, tin, bismuth, and lead, in the melted 
state, gives similar results; but the num- 
ber, position, and color of the lines varies 
in each tase; the appearances are so dU*- 
ferent that, by this mode of examination, 
the metals may be readily distinguished 
from each other. The spectra of zinc and 
cadmium are characterized by the presence 
of a red line in each, which occurs in nei- 
ther of the other metals. ; 

In the years 1851 and 1855, Masson, 
in the course of his investigation on electio 
photometry, examined the spectra produced 
by various metals which were employed as 



dischargers to the Leyden jar» and also 
when heated by the voltaic arc ; and gave 
drawings of the various spectra. Some 
discrepancies in the spectra of the same 
metals examined, both by Wheatstone and 
Masson, were subsequently explained by 
Angstrom, who showed that, owing to the in- 
tense heat of the electric discharges em- 
ployed by Masson, he obtained two spectra 
simultaneously •^one due to the metal, the 
other to the atmosphere itself, which became 
ignited. Certain lines observed by Masson as 
common to the spectra of all the metals were 
really those atmospheric lines. By causing 
the spark to pass between the same metals, 
when immersed in various gases, the par- 
ticular lines due to the metal remained un- 
altered; whilst the others, due to the 
gaseous medium, disappeared and were re- 
placed by new lines. 

Professor Swan was the first person 
who endeavored experimentally to prove 
whether the almost invariably occurring 
yellow line may be solely caused by so- 
diuoL In his researches in 1856y " On the 
Spectra of the Flames of Hydro-Carbons," 
puUished in the *' Transactions of the 
Royal Society of Edinburgh," vol. xxL, p. 
414, he found that the yellow lines of sodi- 
um are visible when a solution is employed 
which does not contain more than 1-2,500,- 
000th part of a grain of sodium ; thus show- 
ing the extreme deUcacy of spectrum an- 

Dr. Plucker, of Bonn, Germany, in 
1858-59, published his investigations re- 
lating to the character of the electric light, 
produced by transmitting the secondary 
discharge from an inducdon coil through 
narrow tubes filled with gases, and subse- 
quently exhausted as completely as possi- 
ble. He found that each exhausted tube 
gave its own characteristic spectrum ; and 
he measured and mapped with great care 
the principal lines visible in each. 

Valuable as these researches and experi- 
ments of Wheatstone, Masson, Swan, Ang- 
strom, Plucker, and oilers undoubtedly 
were, the great discovery of the law of the 
spectral lines, as well as the proof of the 
truth of the law, by simple yet beautiful 
experiments, was reserved for Professor 
Kirchhofi', of Heidelberg, Germany, by 
whom they were announced to the world 
in the year 1859. EirchhofTs law of the 
spectral Unes may be briefiy stated thus : 
If a vapor, rendered incandescent by being 
raised to a high temperature, emits rays of 
certain refrangibilities — that is, of certain 
rainbow colors, or bent in the same degree 
as the rays of rainbow colors — when eidiib- 
ited in the spectrum, the same vapor, when 
at a lower temperature, will have the prop- 
erty of cU)aorbing those particular rays, or 
of replacing them by dark lines in the so- 
lar spectrum. Sodium (common table salt 
i9 nearly all sodium), for example, when 
ignited, emits brilliant orange light, which 

is concentrated into two lines in its spec- 
trum, coincident in position with Fraunho- 
fer's double black line d in the solar spec- 
trum. If through a flame colored by so- 
dium the more powerful electric light of the 
charcoal points, or ignited lime, be trans- 
mitted, the spectrum due to the stronger 
source of light is interrupted by a black 
line coincident with the solar black line d. 
Eirchhoff and Bunsen also ascertained that 
certain of the bright lines in the spectra of 
barium, calcium (Hme), lithium, potassium 
(potash), and strontium, may likewise be 

These facts have been applied by Eirch- 
hoff to the explanation of the Fraunhofer 
Unes, or dark lines in the solar spec- 
trum, in the following manner: He sup- 
poses that, in the luminous atmosphere of 
the sun, the vapors of various substances 
are present, each of which would give its 
characteristic system of bright lines; but 
behind this incandescent atmosphere, con- 
tainipg metallic and other vapors, is the 
still more intensely heated solid or liquid 
nucleus of the sun, which emits a brilliant 
continuous spectrum, containing rays of 
all degrees of refrangibility. When the 
light of this intensely heated nucleus is 
transmitted through the incandescent at- 
mosphere of the sun, the bright lines which 
would be produced by the incandescent at- 
mosphere are reversed; and Fraunhofer's 
dark lines i^re only the reversed bright 
lines which would be visible if the intensely 
hented nucleus were no longer there. 

Eirchhoff, who discovered, as already 
stated, the general law explanatory of the 
Fraunhofer lines, concludes, from his ob- 
servations, that in the atmosphere of the 
sun the vapors of sodium, potassium, mag- 
nesium, calcium, chromium, iron, nickel, 
copper, barium, zinc, and, probably cobalt 
and manganese, are present ; but that lith- 
ium and silver are not present there. Ang- 
strom, an eminent Swedish physicist, be- 
sides confirming the discoveries made by 
Eirchhoff in the atmosphere of the sun, has 
discovered that hydrogen and aluminium, 
and, probably, strontium, are present there. 
It may be asked, How can these things be 
determined ? By comparing simultaneously 
the solar spectrum with one of the spectra 
of the terrestrial elements, and by seeking 
out the bright l